The Sixteen Year Old Hangover Part one
by Thirteen Ravens
Summary: BE WARNED This fic is silly, sick, slightly dark and proven hilarious! NINE months before Harry Potter was born, James and Lily threw a nice party. Alcohol. Cosmic Cheesy Party Nibbles. Ice Cream. Then a few Slytherin Gatecrashers dropped by...
1. Potters, Gnomes, Dogs and Noses

**The 16 year Hangover From Hell : A Recipe for Disaster**  
  
**49** packets of Cheesy Nibbles  
**15** kegs of Butterbeer  
**2** crates of Firespirits  
**45** magic folks in their early twenties (For best results include a squeeze of Werewolf, a pinch of rat, a plastered brace of hosts, and for that sharp tang - one socially inept, mentally unstable DeathEater.)  
  
To aid mixing, be sure to add a dash of Sirius Black: Cocktail Mixer Extraordinaire.  
  
**Instructions:** Put folks together in a small, detached house in remote village in Wales. Then add alcohol, and leave to marinade for the evening in own juices.  
  
Then stir sharply, add extra ingredient of choice, and stand well clear.

**Chapter One **

**Potters, Gnomes, Dogs, and Noses**

  
  
Godric's Hollow was a very peaceful old village in the heart of Gwent. There were only thirty houses, one local shop which sold homemade walnut cake, one red post box, one well trimmed village green, one local sheep, and a pond with three ducks (One white, two brown) and a very raucous, one legged moorhen.  
  
All in all, the place was dead boring. Any self-respecting young, trendy Muggle would flee the place on Friday nights rather than stay in and listen to some plummy voiced git on radio 4, or help their grandfather plan out radish planting strategies for the allotment next year. Or even, perish the thought, get dragged into a long over-the-garden-fence natter with Mrs Next Door about the blessings of her new, twin tub washing machine.  
  
According to the few young people unfortunate enough to be born and raised in the village, Godric's Hollow was not just a hollow, but an utter HOLE.  
  
But, as obscure and out of the way as any Muggle village can get, every place gets its fifteen minutes of fame, be it even for its boiled egg rolling championships, or annual Mayor throwing. In the magical world, though, the village meant something far more exciting.  
  
One particularly chilly November day, Godric's Hollow suddenly became the in-gossip of all the Ex-Hogwarts' twenty-somethings. It transpired that the Potters at number fifteen High Street were having a piss up. 

  
**James and Lily cordially invite you over for a House Party**

**Friday 2nd November. 8pm onwards.**

**Bring both friends and booze.**

**R.S.V.P.**

**(P.S - We urge you not to drink and fly. You are welcome to sleep over if you wish.)  
**

The Potters' piss ups were legendary. As legendary as Sirius' whiskey, cider, and vodka watermelons, perhaps, which everyone learnt to avoid after a while. (They also learnt to never ask him about his cocktail making skills, lest he dared them to sample the results.)  
  
Any excuse was used to arrange a party. And any means any - even if it was a new carpet celebration, or a pet's birthday, nobody cared. Aurors worked hard, so they played harder. And wizards are strange. So the Potters lived for parties, and so did every other young magical human on a Friday night.  
  
Well, almost every young magical human.  
  
Unseen by the excitedly chattering gaggle of party goers that had just apparated outside the front gate of number fifteen, a shadowy, gangly figure was skulking about the garden in a rather creep-ish, lurking way. Now, (as Hermione Granger would already have guessed,) there is only one person in the Harry Potter-Verse wizarding world who had gangly, skulking and creep-ish listed as his nicest qualities.  
  
But - this tale, as can be noted is set before Harry Potter, (And Miss. Granger,) were even conceived, so the normal levels of competency for suspected person do not apply. This sneaky young bastard was yet in his early twenties, and was yet to master the art of sweeping about with style.  
  
In the space of five minutes since apparating into the garden, said young bastard, that was Sev Snape, had already hurt his leg by tripping over one of the pair of Lily's cute, lovingly planted, decorative, miniature, wooden wheelbarrows. Twice. Swearing foully both times. And had then kicked clods of pansies about the garden while hexing and swearing loudly. But, I digress.

**Objective 1: Gain Entry to the Potter house.**  
  
The noisy lot of young magic folk had reached the front door, carefully levitating kegs and crates of wizard (and non-wizard) booze, and packets of Cosmic Cheesy Party Nibbles. They were already too tipsy (The fault of Three Broomsticks' fine ales) to notice either the upended wheelbarrow, or the trampled bedding plants scattered across their path. And due to the music, or their chattering, they didn't even hear the angry voice, which continued to curse from a shadowy Potentilla bush, or the sound of ceramics exploding nearby.  
  
Fortunately, Lily had had the foresight to cast a sound proofing charm around the house and garden before the party. So, Mr Meldrew at number 13, and Mr and Mrs Trilby at number 17 couldn't hear any of the racket that was coming from the Potters' property. Mr Trilby was shocked enough next morning, however, to write and submit an article to the Godric's Hollow Community Magazine, warning his fellow villagers to be on the sharp lookout for any suspicious looking hoodlums who might think it funny to go around knocking the heads off ornamental garden gnomes.  
  
Anyway, despite scrawny Snape's apparent lack of stealth, grace, temper- management, or refinement, he somehow managed to sweep semi-stealthily across the garden to the fence, then half glide, half limp near the fence toward the open front door. The last party guest had wiped his feet and was about to step inside. As he drew nearer Snape believed he knew the owner of one screechy voice, which seemed to drown out all others in its excitement.  
  
"OOOOH Gracie!" it shrilled, (more than a little under the influence of alcohol.) "Darling! How wonderful you managed to get here in the end! Did your Nimbus 1000 break down again? Oh, shame! Was it still under the warranty? Oh, good! Help yourself to the drinks, won't you? Ahhh - it's Marky Mark! Hows your Ma? How were the Bermudas? Oh wonderful! James sweetie darling - will you take their coats?"  
  
He wrinkled his long nose in distaste at the display of such trivial and emotionally sickening chit-chat. How he hated people who talked too much. And when those people who talked too much, drank too much...  
  
He scowled. Take Lily Potter, for example. All chance of subtlety had probably been shamelessly drowned hours ago. (He cringed as a loud screechy laugh rang out.) Along with her inhibitions.  
  
Enough theorising, Severus. The last wizard is just stepping into the house - here's your chance. He crept forward.  
  
"Oooh look who's here! Who's a good little girly, wirly-wirly-wooble? Yes she is! Oh yes she is! Ha...agh!" 

"Doobie - no! Get off Gracie! Doobie, GET DOWN!! Oh, for Merlin's sakes, who bloody well let her out of the dining room? DOOBIE HEEL!"  
  
The scrawny wizard stopped dead. He could see that Gracie was being jumped on by Doobie, who was a large dog. A very large dog with huge paws. With its tongue hanging out and tail wagging furiously, it jumped around like Zebedee on acid, making sure every face was equally drenched with globules of yellow drool.  
  
"Dogs!" he shuddered. "I forgot Potter and his _bloody_ dogs!"  
  
The wizard wasn't just referring to the slobbery Dobermann, (That was now being dragged down the hallway by its collar) as he had already recognised the familiar outline of Lupin sat just inside the kitchen window. Young Remus had no interest in current Muggle fashions, but any Muggle passer by would assume he had. The scruffy beggar wore heavily ripped T-shirt and trousers, and sported a shaggy shock of bleached hair to rival any punk.  
  
Snape allowed a sneer to curl his lip again. Two dogs then. And slobber. Well, just from Doobie at the moment - Remus didn't look quite drunk enough to drool. Yet.  
  
But he would make an effort to ignore the disgusting canines - he must speak with Lily tonight. It was very, very extremely urgent. No matter that the damn witch had chosen Friday night of all nights to hold a social gathering.

He shuddered. Social. The word really, really, extremely got to him. He was Severus Snape - the Master of Words, after all!  
  
He tried to think of an apt Shakespeare quote, but gave up. Maybe not a master of words then.  
  
Master of Stealth and Guile? No, not quite. He shuddered trying not to think about the gnomes or the wheelbarrow. He made a mental note to become the master of _something_, someday. While it suited him to bum around sucking up to people at the moment, he had to plan ahead. Slytherins were supposed to have ambition, after all.  
  
"What are you drinking, Marky? Care to start off the Firewhiskey for us?" As the last robed figure smiled and stepped forward to hand James Potter his cloak, Snape planned to slip around them all, with a stealthy manoeuvre a cat would be proud of. He stepped forward.  
  
_"Eck-ghhhh-gk!"  
_  
A strangled, gagging sound rasped from his mouth. Then as quickly as he had moved forwards, he felt himself being yanked backwards as if someone had grabbed hold of his robes. Retching and gasping for air, Snape put his hand to his throat, frantically tugging at the edge of robe that was slowly strangling him. Whipping out his wand, he swung round, eyes flashing.  
  
And stared at no one.  
  
His face flushed rather unbecomingly as he saw what had happened - the edge of his cloak had snagged in the rambling rose on Potter's garden trellis...  
  
_Bugger shit.  
_  
He wrenched his cloak off the clingy thorns, and spat on the ground. Snape hoped that Lupin hadn't heard his strangled noises, or turned round just then - as he could feel his ears beginning to burn with embarrassment.  
  
The front door was still open though, and Lily now had her back to the garden, tottering slightly in her stiletto heels. Now - he would tell her there and then, face to face on the doorstep, and be gone. At the same time he sprang swiftly forward, one of Lily's ankles gave way to the stiletto, and she stumbled, falling against the door. The heavy oak door shuddered, swang and slammed shut, just as Snape advanced at speed  
  
_CRUNCH_  
  
A yelp of pain was quickly muffled through a pair of hands. Snape's breath hissed through his clenched teeth. He could see tiny little black and red dots interbreeding in front of his eyes...  
  
_Holy fucking MERLIN!!_  
  
His delicate and sensitive nose. His crucial piece of spy equipment - BROKEN. By Lily Evans - AGAIN!  
  
He blinked back tears of pain. But inside he felt his stomach turn over - with what emotion exactly? It was the oblivious violence that did it. It was so...  
  
So...  
  
So...subtly beautiful in its own, indescribable way. His watery eyes seemed to glitter. Oh, he had almost forgotten those slaps, following his insults, Merlin how they had made his face sting and smart! But they were worth it to see those eyes glint like green jewels close to him! (Not shone, not twinkled - glinted) In those moments he was noticed, no longer a tiny and insignificant ant. Those pure jewels that glinted because of something he had done!  
  
He gave a rather stupid, lop-sided grin. He had felt this way ever since that day she accidentally dropped a heavy charms book on his face in the library, knocking him to the floor. He had then dived at her snarling, and she had gasped, before unbalancing on top of him - He could still remember the words -  
  
"Arwgh! Ow dahr ew bweake my blooby dose, you fildhy Budblud!"  
  
_Slap!_  
  
The stupid grin grew wider, and he imagined the pain in his nose was transferred to his cheek. Yes, Lily was a good, sound slapper - for a filthy Mudblood Gryffindor anyway. Lily was the reason why he occasionally wore red and gold socks inside his Hungarian Horntail leather boots. And Lily was the reason why he had spent months obsessively rehearsing insults in the mirror, training his eyebrows to arch just so, sharpening his innuendo to the finest point. Maximumus annoyingius - Or whatever.  
  
Obviously not the Master of Latin, either then, Severus.  
  
Was it medically possible to dislocate a jaw with one slap? Could he still find out?  
  
Even a whole pack of dogs could not put him off seeing her now.


	2. Cuffs, Claws, and Fatal Flaws

**Chapter Two**

**'Cuffs, 'Claws and Fatal Flaws**

Snape leered, licking the blood off his lips, removed a vial from a pocket in his robe and swallowed it in one gulp. That would help numb the pain. He gritted his teeth, and made several attempts to straighten his nose with a finger and thumb.  
  
_Gr-chukh-cqck. _

No – wrong way._  
_  
_kjick. - ck_.

Ahh-GGGhhh...  
  
_SQURRR-ICK!  
_  
Shite. It was just no good - it was even more stubbornly bent than ever. In fact it probably wouldn't take much more abuse before it was as crooked as his fathers. Ictus Snape had been an excessively violent man, who had loved a damn good punch-up. He had been infamous as the main starter of several wizard brawls in the Three Broomsticks in the Sixties.  
  
Severus was not Ictus though - while Ictus liked to hit everyone else, everyone else liked to hit Severus. His face attracted fists like a candle flame attracted moths. All part and parcel of being an annoying little shit.  
  
But still, he had to see if those eyes still flashed the same. _One more time_. A thin lip curled. Sev was a sick, twisted bastard, and well he knew it.  
  
"Oh. Aha! If it isn't Severus Snape, my old chum! Ha ha - magic! What are you doing down there, and where in Merlin's name have you been these past few years?!"  
  
That voice bellowing across the garden was horribly, horribly familiar. The sick, twisted bastard smile swiftly slithered off the sallow face. What cover he had left had now been blown by Bloody Ravenclaw, bloody Spencer Sharpe, the only git in his year who got a higher mark in NEWT Potions than he did.  
  
Three hundred and ninety six percent to his three hundred and ninety four! He had lost the trophy for the all time school record by a measley two percent! To this twit! How that had eaten into him these past couple of years!  
  
"Whad does it look like I'm dewing? Abmiring de scenery frob a gobdin's point ob view?" he snapped irritably at the tall shape that was bending over him.  
  
Snape made an important mental note: Broken noses and sarcastic comments make strange bedfellows. 'Isn't that Shakespeare?' he thought. 'The 'strange bedfellows' bit was anyway. He sneered. Mother's taste in bedtime stories had always veered toward the odd Muggle stuff.  
  
Ravenclaws with all their intelligence, were also often a bit odd. But this Ravenclaw was so intelligent he was skirting on mad. Mad enough to actually like Slytherins, no matter what they said, or did to him. He had worked out whole theories for it too. Snape grimaced as the well built Sharpe beamed down at him, before noticing that he was dressed up as a-  
  
"Whad - in Berlin's nambe?" muttered Snape, his jaw dropping slightly.  
  
"Sheriff Sharpe of the Old Wild West, Severus!" beamed Spencer proudly, lifting his wide brimmed hat. "At yer service!"  
  
Snape stared, and quite forgot to sneer. Sure enough, there was the sheriff badge. And also, a red spotty cravat, a checked shirt and a leather waistcoat, jeans, boots with spurs. A whip.

Oh, no.  
  
A whip? _This could not be happening to him_. He groaned.  
  
"Jolly good costume if you ask me!" beamed Spencer. "What have you come as?"  
  
"Gandalf de Whide, wid a bwoken dose, obiouslee...I don't think it's mend do be a fancy dwess pardy, Sharb,' snarled Snape, looking as though he had just been forced to suck on a lime. _Oh, his nose - it was butchering every witty quip!  
_  
Snape's sarcasm and bloody-nosed ill temper, though, didn't seem to put the smiling Sheriff off one bit. "Oh well - never mind! I'm here to have a good time anyway! Now - up you get!" He bent over, pulled Snape to his feet before grabbing him playfully round the neck with one arm, and rubbing his knuckles boisterously in the greasy hair.

"Lets go, Sev, I'm dying for some cheesy nibbles!"  
  
Before he could even try to protest, Snape had been dragged up on the Potters' doorstep with a sharp yelp. Then he heard the doorbell ring out. (It was one of those awful musical ones, charmed by Lily, no doubt.) Once he could recover his balance he began to struggle. But Sharpe still played as a beater in Quidditch, and had very strong arms. More than a match for a guy who saw weighing out potion ingredients as all the exercise he needed.

"GET OB ME YOU CLOD!" roared Snape.  
  
"Easy there, pardner, unless you want me to try out the handcuffs on yer!"  
  
Snape snarled. He would reach his wand. Preferably before he was completely smothered. He stretched his fingers a little further. Nearly there.  
  
Snape heard two rasping clicks.  
  
"Don't say I didn't warn you Sev!" beamed Sharpe. "That's what I love about all you Slytherin boys. How do you lot manage to always be so damn sexy, sneaky and slimy all at once! Now come here!"  
  
Snape flushed. The ignominy of it. The absolute - OOF!  
  
Snape was winded. He gave up struggling, and let his arms and legs hang limply. Not only was he on Potter's doorstep, but he also had his arms handcuffed behind his back, and was now slung over a Ravenclaw's muscled shoulder like a sack of spuds. It could not get much worse.  
  
"Ohh! James darling, look who it is!"  
  
Snape scowled half-heartedly into the back of Spencer's waistcoat. _Maybe it could_ .  
  
"Howdy pardners! Sheriff Sharpe at yer service - yessirree!"  
  
Snape winced, wishing he would stop making a mockery of that accent.  
  
"It's Spencer, isn't it?" Lily laughed again. "Fancy yourself as a bit of a Clint Eastwood?"  
  
Snape sneered to himself. _Clint -who?_  
  
"Not really, Ma-am,' chuckled Spencer. "I'd fancy a bit of Clint Eastwood, though-"  
  
Lily squawked with laughter. "Oooh, you really are terrible, Spence! Come in, come in!"  
  
Snape could hear Lily tottering off down the hallway. Spencer turned and Severus was swung around, and found himself staring at a pair of size ten men's shoes.  
  
"So, who's your convict friend, Sheriff?" slurred the voice of James Potter.  
  
Snape felt himself tense by instinct. But by the sound of it Potter was already too intoxicated to tie his laces, let alone cast hexes. Maybe he would be safe. He had managed to get in the Potters' house. So much for subtlety, (damn the pansies,) but he was in. Now all he had to do was talk to Lily.  
  
**Objective two: Speak to Lily**  
  
Spencer chuckled. "It's only little Sev from our year. I found the poor chap lying outside with a broken nose."  
  
"Imb dot liddl," mumbled Snape.  
  
"Oh, Merlin's arse, no - the word Slytherin never meant anything to you, did it Sharpe?" groaned James.  
  
The Ravenclaw frowned. "You Gryffindors! Always so warlike! Honestly if everyone had spent less time fighting and more time having fun, imagine what Hogwarts would have been like!"  
  
"Did someone say Slytherin?" growled another voice.  
  
Snape screwed his eyes shut. Black. _What a carnival this was turning out to be._  
  
"Well, surprise, surprise," whispered Black.  
  
Spencer tutted. "Goodness me, Sirius, leave the poor chap alone - he's got a broken nose!"  
  
"Then he won't mind a couple of broken legs to take the pain away from it!" Black snarled.  
  
"Sirius!"  
  
For the first time in years Snape actually felt grateful toward the Ravenclaw. But it was probably because he was so ridiculously outnumbered by Gryffindors, and handcuffed to boot.  
  
"What's going on here?" enquired a gentle voice.  
  
_The werewolf now-_  
  
Snape shuddered as he recalled those glowing yellow eyes from the Shrieking Shack. A mad, snarling, bloodthirsty, shadow advancing on him in the gloom. He had stupidly stood transfixed with horror until Potter had appeared, throwing a stunning spell at the creature before stunning and dragging him by the collar all the way back up to the willow. Hearing that thing's frenzied howls echoing up the passageway.  
  
_How could that dark creature also be this soppy pacifist?_ A real Jekyll and Hyde? The bloke really, really creeped him out. And he'd had nightmares after he'd read that Muggle story. (Mother's damned bookshelf again.)  
  
"Sirius, what's going on?" the voice repeated, as calm as ever.  
  
"Snivellus is going on."  
  
Snape gritted his teeth as he heard the very cream of the Gryffindor's wit. All because the miserable Marauders just had to find out who'd shut themselves in a Hogwarts Express toilet cubicle, to cry all the way home at the end of their first year! He could guess at the sort of look Black was giving him, and was quite happy staring at brown leather.  
  
"I think you mean Severus," corrected Spencer firmly. "And he's here as my honorary convict, Sirius."  
  
"But it's not even fancy dress - Ere, James - say something will you!" huffed Black, turning to his best friend.  
  
James squinted at his friend. His left eye seemed reluctant to focus properly. "What...? Lily says...no frights, I mean fights. Anti hex spell - you know. Everyone's...um...here, to have good time." James paused to blink rapidly; he was slurring worse than ever. "Bloody Merlin - Sirrus, Seer - e - hur, Serious...uh...mate, wheew - what ex-sackly did - you, put – in my larst - drink? I'm spinnin!"  
  
Snape raised an eyebrow and almost smiled. Anti-hex spell? A house full of drunken Gryffindors who couldn't hex him?  
  
Then he scowled. _A house full of drunken Gryffindors he couldn't hex-  
_

"Led be down Sharbe," Snape muttered.

"Hup! There you go!" Spencer bent over and Snape's legs found the floor. He backed up into a shadowy corner to survey the people who were staring at him.  
  
"Bloody hell - who did that to your face?" Lupin stared at Severus in shock. His eyes travelled suspiciously to Sirius.  
  
"Don't look at me Moony, looks like someone beat me to it!" he snarled.  
  
"Severus!" A woman's voice shrilled out down the hall. Snape flinched. People were coming out the kitchen especially to stare - at him. He could hear the whispers and the mutterings.  
  
_Severus? Severus Snape? That weedy Slyth greaseball who looks like a creature of the night? Lily actually invited him?  
_  
Lily tottered over then, her eyes wide with surprise. "Where have you been these past few years you stroppy sod? There were rumours you were dead! And how did you get in this state?"  
  
Snape raised an eyebrow. Subconsciously he rubbed his hand over his left arm. _Ha, wouldn't they just...die...to know?  
_  
"I'b been busy," he sneered. "Bud neber mind be. I hab somb imbordant informadion do dell du."  
  
Lily stifled a giggle. "Oh really? Not talking like that you won't!" She took out her wand, and moved closer to Snape.  
  
He swallowed nervously. She was going to do what she had done in the library after she had slapped him! He felt faint.  
  
The tip of her wand touched his nose. "Sans lesionis."  
  
An odd tingling sensation followed the glow of soft blue light. He could breathe! Once again, Lily had healed his nose. But this time there was a crowd, and it was staring curiously at him. He could feel himself beginning to blush _- this was intolerable!_  
  
"No thanks to you Lily Potter - for you broke it in the first place by slamming your front door in my face!" he snapped, scowling at her.  
  
Lily raised her eyebrows, and tried her best to hide a smile. "Oh...I _thought _I heard something go crunch. I thought it was only a snail caught in the door,' she remarked innocently.  
  
Sirius snorted. "Well it was something – _slimy..._"  
  
Behind Sirius came a familiar titter. It was the Black-Potter fanclub: Pettigrew.  
  
Snape snarled and tried to wrestle with the handcuffs. It was hopeless, of course. The crowed giggled. Lily held her hand up to her mouth, and pretended to cough.  
  
"Spencer - get me out of these fucking things!" he hissed eventually.  
  
Black leered. "Ooh, so you let Sheriff Spencer handcuff you? That's interesting... What did we miss?'  
  
Pettigrew's eyes lit up. 'Kinky!' he giggled.  
  
"Nothing much, Black. But I was...ah...working on the roleplay," smiled Spencer suggestively.  
  
Snape made a bee-line for the Ravenclaw. "H-how dare you!" Snape glared up into the Ravenclaw's twinkling eyes, before staring angrily round at them all. Just because he'd never been interested in dating at school they all assumed that he was-  
  
Spencer frowned. "Hey! Are you suggesting that there's something wrong with me?" He loomed over Snape, who swallowed nervously. He really was very tall. Toned, and muscular. And tall.  
  
"N-no, Spencer. Not at all!"  
  
-_Yes Spencer. You are completely and utterly stark raving, mad. You snatched my potions record from me, you arsewipe. And now thanks to you everyone thinks I am gay and that we are an item-  
_  
"Please take the cuffs off."  
  
Spencer sighed. "Turn around then, Severus."  
  
Snape did, before he realised the implications of it. He blushed heavily as Spencer's body bent over his. Snape swallowed as he felt the man's warm breath tickling his neck. The cuffs clicked open, and the horrified Slytherin leapt back like a scalded cat.  
  
"I'll be buggered - I believe you owe me a galleon, Remus," sniggered Black.  
  
"For what?" frowned Lupin.  
  
"For that bet in year six, about whether Snivellus was, you know, a Beater - _for the other team..._"  
  
Snape glowered, but didn't dare say anything. Rather the verbal insults, than getting physically threatened by an offended gay Quidditch player. After all, he was certain he wasn't gay himself. He did remember fancying a couple of girls at school...  
  
James looked at the confused expression twisting Snape's face, and started to laugh. But he ended up groaning as his vision lurched in front of him. "Uuuh, Seerus, I'm not feeling - too brill."  
  
Snape stared. James Potter was looking really, really green. He had a phial of pep-up potion in his pocket. But he certainly wasn't going to offer him any.  
  
Sirius scowled. Maybe it wasn't such a good idea to add that much blackcurrant juice to firewhiskey. Then set it alight. Then drink it through a straw -  
  
"You only had a couple of shots, Prongs, you lightweight!" he jested.  
  
James went to wave his hand dismissively, but ended up clapping it to his mouth. He needed to get to the nearest ceramic - something. Immediately. He lurched up the stairs.  
  
The partygoers grimaced at the sound of puke hitting toilet bowl. 

Snape sniggered. Maybe parties were more fun than he had thought.  
  
"I bet I could do better than him, Black," he sneered suddenly, surprising everyone, including himself.  
  
Black was going to fire a retort back at Snape. But something stopped at him. Instead he peered curiously at him before smirking. "You really think so, Sniv?"  
  
"Yes Black, I do," he smirked back coolly. What insane state of mind was persuading him that it was a good idea to drink something that had Potter out in two shots?  
  
"You'd have to be raving mad to go near his mixtures! Shame on you!" Lily snapped at Snape. And getting angry with Snape, of course, was the worst thing she could do.  
  
The Slytherin felt his stomach coil over like a snake in pleasure. _What insane state of mind indeed-  
_  
Snape stalked stiffly across to Black, and drew himself up as tall as he could. "And I reckon I can beat you, too, Black, if you dare to accept the challenge," he said smartly. "I'll have the same as Potter, if you please."


	3. The Guys and The Girls, and The Wolf

**Chapter Three**

**The Guys, the Girls and the Wolf**

"OH, HO!" barked Sirius. He looked up at the stairs and bellowed, "Did you hear that Prongs? Snivellus the Slimy here reckons he can out-drink me!"  
  
There was an unearthly moan from upstairs, which sounded like it had echoed directly out of a toilet bowl.  
  
Sirius roared with laughter.  
  
Lily stared at Snape incredulously. Snape threw a wicked grin back at her. Lily narrowed her eyes. Snape's grin merely grew even wider.

_What did the smug little git think he was playing at trying to stare her out?_  
  
Lily rolled her eyes in frustration. Men! She would never understand their idiotic little contests. One whiff of alcohol and they regressed to childhood. Like lemmings leaping off a cliff-  
  
Well, she'd just watched her husband make a complete prat of himself, so she certainly wasn't going to watch anyone else disintegrate. She turned her back and tottered toward the living room. Sarah, Gracie and Ruth were in there. They would understand her woes.  
  
Meanwhile, back in the hallway-  
  
"Can I play?" smiled Sharpe innocently.  
  
"No - you damn well can't!" snarled Snape, bristling.  
  
Black raised his eyebrows in mock concern. "Ooh.You should dump him for that Sharpe. He obviously doesn't respect you. Or...does talk like that turn you on?"  
  
Sharpe raised an eyebrow. "Well, actually - shame to say, but it does!"  
  
Black waited for Snape's face to flush red again before grinning like a politician on polling day. "Of course you can play, Spencer!" he said sweetly. "Wormtail - get the shot glasses, the straws, the bottle of whiskey and the blackcurrant. We're going into the dining room, away from the women."  
  
Wormtail scurried off eagerly.  
  
Snape shut his eyes. _Sod it. _All he had wanted to do was ask Lily how to go about making a protective charm. Bribe her if he had to. While she had excelled in charms in school, he had been hopeless at them. He would lie of course, if she asked him what it was for.  
  
He winced as he sat down stiffly on a dining room chair, and tried not to remember the previous night. Potions could help numb out most of the pain, but they couldn't protect the mind from the full horror of the Cruciatus Curse.  
  
Malfoy could stand it, of course - but Malfoy had served the Dark Lord longer, and was probably punch-drunk numb to it. He was also a stupid inbred. Snape was all for good wizard breeding, but Malfoy's parents being first cousins was a fact he found more than a little disturbing.  
  
He stared at the shot glass, which had just been slammed down in front of him. The liquid was a foul purple colour. The sickeningly sweet whiff of blackcurrant juice caused his upper lip to curl back. Oh, what a troll he was to even consider doing this! But - one consolation. He glared at Black and Sharpe sat across the table from him. They were going to be drinking it too.  
  
"What's it called?" muttered Snape.  
  
"Well, it's my own invention actually Snivelly," said Sirius smugly. "And since you've shown a great interest in poisoning yourself with it, I think it makes perfect sense to call it - Snakebite."  
  
Wormtail giggled.  
  
"Snakebite it is then, Black," sneered Snape. "But before you drink anything, just you remember which Hogwarts house threw you out."  
  
Sirius laughed. "Smart words Greaseball, shame it's actions, not words that matter in life. I moved houses because I had enough honour not to enjoy slithering on the floor like my waste of space family."  
  
"Hear hear!" cried a voice from the other end of the room. Snape could hear other voices whisper and murmur in agreement.  
  
As the group had entered the dining room and the shot glasses had come out, the other wizards stood about had gradually begun to take interest in what was going on at the table.  
  
Snape's eyes darted about the room. There were at least ten men staring at him with dislike. He sneered at them; he was a Slytherin after all, he was quite used to being despised.  
  
Sirius leaned back casually on his chair and slipped a hand into his pocket.  
  
Snape shot up straight as if he'd been stung. His hand quivering over his wand handle.  
  
Sirius's hand emerged innocently clutching a lighter and a packet of cigarettes. He lit one, and casually blew the smoke in Snape's direction.  
  
"Relax, Snivellus," remarked Sirius coolly. "Why, you look like you could do with a really stiff drink..."  
  
"Oh, please, you two!" sighed Sharpe. "Let's just have some fun for once - a friendly competition?"  
  
Snape then muttered something so foul, it is probably unprintable even within the realms of restricted fiction.  
  
"Right!" snapped Sharpe suddenly, picking up his shot glass. "Lets get drunk!"  
  
"Ahh," Sirius said mysteriously, taking a long drag on the cigarette. "But there's a few rules to follow first. Snivellus wants _'the same as Potter,'_ so we are going to be drinking this stuff the same way Potter did."  
  
"Which is?" shot back Snape. _Was there any other damn way to drink alcohol?_  
  
Sirius picked up his lighter and stood up. "Now everyone, I want you all to hold up your straws!"  
  
Wormtail giggled. Snape made a mental note to mix up the slowest acting, most gut eroding poison he knew of and spoon feed it to the filthy minded little shit himself. Now there was an ambition to be going on with. Master of torturing watery-eyed Gryffindors. Enticing.  
  
Sirius flicked his lighter and held the flame over the alcohol.  
  
"That'll never light!" sneered Snape.  
  
Suddenly, a flickering purple halo of flame sprung up around the rim of the glass. "Firewhiskey, Sniv. As flammable as it is potent. Well, fancy that!" exclaimed Black mockingly.

There was a slight creak as the dining room door opened behind them.

"More people! Hey Spencer, how's it going!" Everyone looked round at the speaker, who was a shortish man with sandy hair and twinkly eyes. He offered his hand. "Lily told me I'd find you in here!"  
  
"How are you, Ben?" Spencer rose and shook the man's hand energetically.  
  
"Oh, brill, thanks!"  
  
Snape looked curiously across the table at the man. It was that hopeless Hufflepuff, Ben Perks. He smirked. That man had been an utterly useless Quidditch goalkeeper. Even so, he had accidentally managed to knock Potter off his broomstick once, causing him to fall and break his leg. Snape couldn't help but like the man for it.  
  
"Say, what are you playing here?" Perks remarked, his smile wavering slightly as his gaze lighted on Snape.  
  
"Oh, just a bit of snake baiting, Perks," smiled Black. "Care to join us to make it a four house championship?"  
  
"Go ahead. The more the merrier,' muttered Snape under his breath.  
  
"That's the spirit Severus!' beamed Spencer"  
  
Another shot glass was slammed down in front of Perks. "I won't ask what it is, Black," he said, eyeing the flaming stuff wryly. "So if Sarah uses Veritaserum on me later I won't be able to confess!"  
  
Black smirked. "Accio ashtray!" 

Snape ducked as a heavy pub ashtray divebombed his head and shot into Black's outstretched hand.

"Oops, sorry Sniv," exclaimed Black, casually flicking his ash. "It must've mistook you for a fag."  
  
At this pun, a few spectators sniggered. But Pettigrew sounded like he was about to piss himself.  
  
Snape was all up for delaying. The smell of hot blackcurrant was really beginning to get to him. "Why don't you play as well Pettigrew? If you seem to enjoy it so much!" he snarled. His black eyes flashed around the crowd. "And anyone else here want to play while I'm at it? Or are you all too scared?"  
  
Angry mutterings filled the room. _Scared? Of a runty Slytherin? Of course they weren't!  
_  
A minute later Snape found himself squashed between two rather sweaty Gryffindors who absolutely reeked of Butterbeer. He winced. _Maybe he should have just kept his bloody mouth shut._  
  
Black sat opposite, watching him like a hawk, before taking hold of his glass. Spencer, meanwhile, had begun to bang his hand rhythmically on the table.

'Hup - Hup - Hup!'  
  
Others joined in. The table began to shake under the drumming. Snape's fingers clutched at the straw nervously. The noise they were making sounded like a pack of wild dogs!  
  
Hup! Hup! Hup! HUP! HUP! HUP!  
  
The drumming was speeding up, as were the whooping noises. It was near deafening.  
  
Then-  
  
"NOW!" Black roared.  
  
Snape sucked at the straw and felt the fumes scorch his eyes, and the liquid burn his throat. He heard people begin to hack and splutter around him.  
  
_Fu - Fu - Fuuuucccck!_

__

__

* * *

"So lovely to hear the men all playing nicely together," said Gracie dryly.

'Yes,' muttered Lily, picking at a bowl of dry roasted nuts. 'What a racket! Who'd think that one scrawny Slytherin would make all the difference in noise level...'  
  
"Well, my Ben's in there with them now," sniffed Sarah. "I can only shudder to think what immature competition they've invented now."  
  
"Yes, me too!" chipped in Paula, raising her glass. Some of the other women in the room voiced their agreement.  
  
"They're all the same with alcohol," nodded Ruth sagely. 'That's why I'm aiming to stay single.'  
  
"Very wise," smiled Lily. "Look where my James is now. And I could bet you any amount of Galleons he's still lying on the bathroom floor in a puddle of sick, expecting me to go up there and clear it up."  
  
"But you still love him, Lily," smiled Lupin, sipping his drink.  
  
"Yes, Remus, of course I do," smiled Lily, popping a nut into her mouth. "Someone has to look after the proud git."  
  
"So, Remus," whispered Ruth leaning closer. "Is your motorbike riding friend still single?"  
  
"Who, Sirius?" A rather hairy eyebrow went up in confusion. "Well, yes - I think so."  
  
Ruth sighed dreamily. "You know...I think he's rather sexy."  
  
Sarah snorted a word into her wine glass which sounded suspiciously like 'leather.' They all giggled.  
  
"You be careful with that one Ruth," Lily warned. "He's flighty. One night stands are his speciality..."


	4. control your anger, discipline those cru...

**Chapter Four**

**Control Your Anger! Discipline Those Crumbs!**

When people had finished coughing and spluttering they turned curious eyes toward the sickly looking Slytherin sat between the two stocky Gryffindors. If at all possible, the guy was looking even sicker than ever.

Once Snape managed to gain control of his coughing, he straightened up, opened his eyes and glared murderously across the table. Sirius Black, however, seemed completely unaffected by the burning alcohol he had just necked back, and was actually smirking.

Snape's teeth were bared, and his face was beginning to flush an angry brick red. He snatched up a large bowl of Cosmic Cheesy Party Nibbles and brandished it threateningly.

"You cheated Black, I saw you!" he growled lowly.

"Did not!" The smirk grew into a smug grin.

"You smelly twat! I know you put no whiskey in your drink - that's why you didn't cough!" hissed Snape, his eyes glaring madly.

A pair of dark eyebrows rose innocently. "I did nothing of the sort, you unhinged, slimy little bastard!"

"S-S-Smelly twat!"

"What sort of insult is that to use twice? It's not even witty!" scoffed Black.

The bowl of crisps went flying across the table hitting Black full in the face. Cheesy nibbles scattered everywhere. Black's smirk never wavered as Snape whipped out his wand and pointed it at him. Instead he simply began to pick the crisps calmly off his front, sticking several in his mouth as he did so. Savouring the taste.

"Ah ha – ha...Anti hex, Snape..." he warned, waving his finger in between eating the snacks. "You can't rely on those filthy little hexes of yours tonight!"

"Then I will just have to use this wand for a _different_ purpose then - won't I?' breathed the Slytherin murderously.

"Don't you get that oily stick near me, I've heard the rumours about where you keep it!"

The black eyes narrowed to mean slits. "Now, I am really ...REALLY...going to kill you!"

Snape wasn't used to verbally threatening Sirius Black. Usually there would have been hexes flying all over the place by now, and so he was rapidly running out of insults.

Black simply laughed at him. "I understand you perfectly Snivellus. _Really...REALLY_-"

Snape shrieked, grabbed a handful of the spilt snacks, and flung them at Black with all his might. There were lots of little pinging sounds as bits of crisp rained down all over the furniture.

Then a sudden hush.

"You can leave all the killing till after you've finished vacuuming Severus Snape," announced a stern voice.

"Whoopsie dearie," said Black quietly. "Did we forget to tell you not to drop crumbs on Lily's dining room carpet, Snape?"

"Tosspots" Snape hissed through a twisted mouth, before turning on his heel and stalking from the room.

Lily followed haughtily, close on his heels.

Spencer Sharpe scowled morosely, and poured himself another large shot of Snakebite.

"Severus Snape, what on earth were you playing at in there?" hissed Lily once they were out in the corridor, which was for the moment empty. "You go missing for years then you reappear and act like some wild party animal! What has got into you?"

"I came to ask you about something," he growled. "I had no idea you were going to be doing something - _social_."

"Could it possibly be about charms?" she enquired dryly.

Snape grimaced; was he really that predictable? "Yes."

Lily sniggered. "So it looks like that old deal's still active, then."

"Yes, whatever," he waved a hand dismissively. "I'll make you that..._potion_ again, if I must. And I'm...ah ...sorry...I suppose, about your carpet."

"So you should be!" was the scowled reply. "I thought I told you to be careful with that temper of yours. And to let someone like _him_ wind you up."

"He just-" Snape muttered, before clenching his teeth. "He just makes my blood boil, that's all. And Irefuse toapologise for that!"

"I don't care if you do hate him, it's still no excuse to throw the party food!" she glared. "And don't think you can wriggle out of cleaning it up, that carpet's new."

Snape scowled as Lily thrust the vacuum cleaner at him. "So this is - a vacuum cleaner, is it? But its a Muggle-"

"Isn't that obvious?" she snapped. "We don't have house elves to run about after us here, you know! And besides," she added more gently, "I think spells shouldn't be used for certain things. It just makes people take their magic for granted."

"Oh," said Snape, pursing his lips.

"Right!" she breezed. "I'll get the boys out of the room, and let you get started."

Snape felt the weirdest sense of unease creep over him. "Er – Evans..."

"You might as well call me Lily. Everyone else does."

"Lily." He flushed (he'd never called a woman by her first name.) "Erm - what do I do with it - to - er - make it work?"

Lily blinked. Sometimes she couldn't believe these purebloods. Though it was rather amusing to see know-it-all Severus Snape (Of all people)sounding unsure of himself. "Honestly?" she rolled her eyes. She pointed at the powerpoints in the wall.

"See those?"

Snape raised an eyebrow. "I'm not blind."

Lily ignored this. "They are plug sockets - live electric." She unwound the electrical cord. "And this is the electrical power cord. You put this end in the socket, then press that switch to turn the socket on."

"Okay - fine - But that won't make the mess disappear."

"I'm getting to that!" she shot back his sneering remark, her eyes afire.

Snape grinned. "Temper, temper."

"Then," she announced curtly, ignoring the comment, "you press this button here and pick up this end, which sucks."

"I'll bet it does," leered Snape dryly.

"Severus, do you want me to help you?" she snapped impatiently.

Glinting green eyes.

"Snape. Snape! SEVERUS SNAPE!"

_Green...green..._ "Uh - yes?"

Lily stared at him. "Are you drunk or something?"

"Oh, no - not at all," he smirked. Though maybe his head was buzzing slightly from that shot earlier.

Lily shook her head. "Men!" she exclaimed, before disappearing back into the dining room.

Almost immediately Snape could hear her giving Black a piece of her mind, and not long after that she had the human content of he dining room staggering reluctantly through into the kitchen.

Snape couldn't help smirking as Ben Perks and Black emerged supporting a ragged looking Sharpe, minus the Stetson, who had obviously just done several more shots, and was trying to sing. If that's what it could be called.

"Purple haaazzee - uh - all arooound! Don' know if I'm goin' uuuhup or - down!"

Finally, Wormtail emerged carrying the firewhiskey and looking rather smug. And wearing Sharpe's Stetson.

"Ooooh - Actin' funny, and uh, don' know why - scuuse me while I kiss the sky! Yeah - YEAHH!"

Snape reckoned he probably got the better deal with the vacuuming.


	5. Tall, Dark and Green?

A/N: Many, many thanks to my reviewers so far! On with the madness. ;o)

* * *

**Chapter Five**

**Tall, Dark...and Green?**

After a very brief visit to the kitchen to get a bottle of wine (Avoiding the growing puddles of spilt beer - fortunately on washable floor tiles) Lily Potter rejoined the slightly more docile and even-tempered group in the living room.

"Would you like some more wine, Remus darling?"

"Why yes, thank you Lily!"

Lily sighed as she topped up glasses, trying to ignore the drumming and whooping sounds coming from her freshly scoured kitchen. "I've managed to ban the blackcurrant juice in an attempt to save the bathroom carpet later on. But now they're playing some daft game involving an empty Firewhiskey bottle! Where did my life go wrong Remus?"

The young man chuckled softly. "It depends on your definition of wrong."

"Must I elaborate?"

"If you will."

Lily shuddered. "You will insist on torturing me Remus! And four more words to add to it all - Snape, dining room and vacuuming. It could have been a worse four words, but still."

"Ah," he nodded sagely. "One hitch though. No sound of the vacuum cleaner being switched on."

Lily rolled her eyes. "As if that surprises me! But it's not as if the git'll be able to charm the thing."

Lupin smiled. "Two more incongruous words - Snape. Charms."

Lily smirked. "Well, if my hoover ends up with green scales and a tail I'll be asking for a bit more than a favour off of him!"

Remus frowned and drew closer. "Lily, may I ask you one thing?"

She fluttered her eyelashes. "Ask away!"

'The girls here, well they were - gossiping after you went to-' Remus was cut short by a Lily death glare. "Erm, did you...invite Snape tonight?" he finished hurriedly.

She snorted into her wine glass. "Really dear! Whatever makes you think that?"

"Well," he flushed. 'Well...the...er...way you treat him."

"And how is that, Remus?" she mused, seemingly innocent.

The man frowned quizzically. "Well, to say he was, still is...a - a – er-"

"Slytherin, Remus?" finished Lily airily. "Well, it might be a bit surprising for the boys, but don't worry dearie. Just because I happened to date one in our fifth year doesn't mean I was in favour with them all!"

"I, err... Um. Oh...." Remus finished, mouth agape. He couldn't help staring.

"You...dated...?'

Lily smiled mischievously. "Oh, and mind you keep that last bit secret. It just happens that only two other people know about it."

"So you did? But how? Who with? Who knows?!" Remus spluttered.

"Shhh!" her smile widened as she took a sip out of her glass. "I'm a married woman now, so keep it down! There are a lot of Quidditch players here, and I don't really too many others to know that the certain tall, dark, mysterious fellow I used to tell them about actually wore green on match days!" She watched amused as Remus' face creased up as he attempted to figure out whom she could be talking about.

"Tall...and dark?" Remus frowned, and after a few moments more he paled. "Lily - you wouldn't! Didn't? B-but I would have-"

"Found out Remus? Too right you would have! Your sense of smell really does scare me sometimes you know!"

She wrinkled her nose in distaste. "But ugh! How dare you even think I would even consider-" Lily shuddered and nodded in the direction of the dining room. "Oh, God in Heaven - no! Guess again - please! If it helps at all - the guy was two years older than us, and remarkably good at scent masking charms."

"Masking charms?" Remus' eyes narrowed in thought as he swirled the last drops of wine around in his glass. There were only a few people really talented at that. Was one in Slytherin? If only he could recall a name or a face.

"Surely not-" he managed to whisper finally. "Not...Nutty?"

Lupin's eyes grew wider as he looked into Lily's. She could hold a serious face no longer, and giggled.

It was true.

"Oh Lily! But - how did you manage that without anyone guessing? Oh, please tell me," he whispered breathlessly. "Does James even know?"

Lily shook her head slowly, her eyes dancing with amusement - she loved nothing more than a good tease. "Fortunately, no," she replied coolly. "It was a whole two years before I considered James. But could you imagine what he'd do if he did know?"

She drained he glass and rose. As Remus looked up she winked and added, almost slyly, "But what if the couple of people who do know about it - both happen to be in this cottage, at this very moment?"

Before Remus could comment she had begun to walk away, remarking more loudly, "Oh - and speaking of my dear darling husband, I think I ought to check on him..."

The man watched the young woman totter out the room, looking at her with an expression of complete bewilderment.

"Women," he mumbled, before downing the rest of his glass.

"Who knows what secret, Remus?" said a slightly tipsy voice in his ear.

"Oh, just women and their gossip," he smiled. "More wine Ruth?"

"Don't mind if I do!"

"Oh, give me a refill too, Reamie!" cooed Gracie.

As Remus was refilling their glasses a sudden thought occurred to him. Where had they put Doobie after she got out? In the garden?

He felt himself blushing. The perfect excuse to get away from the increasingly giggly girls.

"I, uh, need the loo," he mumbled lamely, rising from the chair. "Pardon me ladies."

Once he was out in the hallway he could hear several conversations going on. A large group of men and women were talking Quidditch in the study room. Upstairs he could distinctly hear Lily's voice, and various moans, which were presumably coming from James.

Quidditch was boring. Remus moved toward the kitchen, but decided to listen before walking in.

"So what'll it be Wormy?" Sirius's voice.

"Uh, do I have to?"

"Yeah, don't be a bore!"

"Oh, just play the damn game Peter!"

Was that last one Sharpe's voice? Remus frowned. He sounded really irritable about something. Someone must really have gone far to upset the easy-going Ravenclaw.

"Uh...uh... P-promise you won't kill me?" quavered Wormtail.

"Nonsense! Why should I kill you?"

"Well...you have handcuffs – and..."

Sharpe laughed bitterly. 'Don't get your knickers in a twist. It's only a game!'

"Uhm...okay. I dare you to...erm...to erm, poke a Cheesy Nibble up your nose!" he squeaked.

Some people snorted. Lupin pulled a face - Wormtail was always daring people to poke things up their nose. Quills, Bertie Bott's Beans. Chocolate frogs. It got a bit annoying after a while.

"Oh, fer Merlin's sakes!" crowed Sharpe. "You made me do that at school! Pomfrey was insufferable - wouldn't stop on at me for that!"

"And I'll be on at you even more if I end up being the one removing it Wormtail," growled Sirius. "Can't you think of something else Sharpe could do?"

Remus sighed to himself. He wasn't really into all these silly games. Maybe he should go back to the living room - maybe Lily was back.

There was a loud whirr of noise to his right. Lupin turned round. It was coming from the dining room. Snape.

Doobie was in there too somewhere. Or perhaps in the conservatory?

Remus knew the Slytherin probably didn't like dogs. And Remus had a tendency to worry about people. Even if they were horrible and slimy, and smelt of potions. He was a habitual worrier.

And wasn't Doobie scared of the vacuum cleaner?


	6. Dogged

A/N: Thanks reviewers!! Sorry that the last chapter was a bit short - here's a longer one!

* * *

**Chapter Six**

**Dogged**

"Now, is everything quite clear? Good!" Lily gave him one last glare before she closed the door.

"Why, yes, thank you Evans. It's simply lovely," was the muttered afterthought.

Snape stood alone in the dining room clutching the vacuum cleaner plug Lily had forced into his hand. He glowered at the twin electrical socket in a mixture of contempt and disgust, and then at the snowstorm of crisps all over the floor.

Vacuuming at a party? What had Potter done to that girl to make her so fussy about a damn floor rug?

He scowled. "More to the point," he thought, "what did that blasted girl just do to me to make me consider cleaning it?"

"Electer-re-is-ity!" he scoffed. That nasty brown contraption there, resembling some droopy cloth sack attached to a pole. It would be quicker to eat the crisps off the floor!

While on the subject of crisps; he hadn't eaten a thing since yesterday evening. His eyes roved around the room. A buffet table crammed with food stood in the corner. Why hadn't he noticed it before?

Of course, the two fat sweaty Gryffindors had been standing over there hogging it, blocking it from view.

Making sure no one was watching, Snape dropped the plug and slunk across to the party food. He cast a pair of narrow eyes over the spread, rubbing his hands together in a clichéd and gleefully evil way.

Immediately his eye was caught by something horribly bright and - familiar? Party Rings? Why were these vile things always at parties? Nobody liked them! Gaudy, disgusting monstrous little pink excuses for biscuits...Like Gryffindors, sickly, gaudy outers, and completely vacant in the middle.

He'd better move on before someone caught him analysing children's party food. He had a shadowy and mysterious reputation to uphold.

Ah, sandwiches, these were more like it. Snape scrutinised each tray of neat fluffy bread triangles in turn. What flavour were these? He picked one up and sniffed it.

Eugh - was that - _corned beef_? He dropped the sandwich and shuddered involuntarily. He worked with dismembered animal parts on a daily basis- he wasn't about to start eating them as well!

Likewise the piles of sausage rolls, the cocktail sausages, chicken drumsticks, prawn cocktail and crab sticks, and the bacon quiche. He sneered at the pathetic offering of carrot sticks and spring onions. Reluctantly Snape picked up a handful of cheese and pineapple cubes on cocktail sticks and began to distastefully pick off the cheese - he didn't like strong cheddar. Why were parties always woefully short of vegetarian foodstuffs? Did people think they lived on lettuce?

And then, his eye moved over the sweet section, and was drawn to one particular bowl. Could that possibly be...

Yes, it was!

Maybe it wasn't such a bad spread, after all. He swooped down on the dessert and scooped out a spoonful.

Pausing, he savoured the taste with a serious expression. As good as it ever was at Hogwarts – possibly even better. In this case, he was claiming the whole damn bowl as his! Let them all fight him for it!

Clutching the bowl possessively to his chest, he glanced around the room. Now - where to eat it where he would be left in complete peace-? No cowboys, no Potters, no - _yeuch_ - blackcurrant shots...

He swept across to a pair of floor length curtains at the other end of the room. Drawing one back he uncovered some French Doors. He squinted through the glass into the darkness. He could faintly see a pair of wicker chairs and a table. A conservatory. He could shut the door after him, close the curtains. Perfect peace and quiet.

_Crrreak!   
_   
The sound of a floorboard out in the hallway. Snape paled. What if that was Lily coming to check up on him? He didn't really want to jeopardise his deal. Lily was so much better at charms than any of his old Slytherin gang. Well, the ones he was on talking terms with anyway. He needed to try and keep on her good side.

Setting the bowl carefully on the table Snape shot across the room, picked up the plug and crammed it into the mains.

Click.

He then whirled around and pressed the button on the cleaner like Lily had told him-

Whooooo-oooooOOOOOOOEEEEEEEMMMMMMM!!!!!!!!

Snape fell back in terror grabbing at his wand. Bloody freaking Merlin! _Was it alive?_ Angry? In pain?! Dying?!

But after a few seconds it was clear the thing wasn't going anywhere. Just lie there and shriek in that horrible tone.

He clutched his chest, and breathed in several times trying to slow down his thudding heart. Fucking, frigging Muggle crap! Plugs, switches, sockets and elecker-tris-ty - were all tolerable for a short time, but why didn't she warn him it was going to make such a blasted noise?! The sound it made reminded him of when his uncle had taken him on a field trip, and tried egg-robbing a pair of very pissed off Wyverns.

And that hadn't been good.

In which case, he certainly wasn't going to trust any contraption that reminded him of it. Pocketing his wand, Snape grabbed up the bowl again and moved toward the French Doors.

Turning the key he pushed down the handle-

"SNAPE!" hollered a voice over the vacuum cleaner.

_Bollocks.   
_   
Snape curled his mouth in the most disdainful sneer he could and turned around. "LUPIN?!" he bellowed back. Snape's sneer became more pronounced as an anxious looking Lupin came into view.

Lupin shook his head. "I don't think you want to be doing that!"

"I'm afraid I can't hear a damn word you're saying!" called back Snape, smirking. "But if you think I'm going to be doing someone elses housework at a party, you are much mistaken!" He pushed the handle further down.

Lupin paled. "NO, NO - YOU FOOL - THE DOG!" he mouthed, pointing at the doors behind Snape. "D--O--G - DOG!" Lupin let his tongue hang out of his mouth, mimicking panting.

"WOOF?"

Snape's expression turned murderous. What was the wolf thinking he was doing pointing and swearing at him? The sickeningly mild-tempered little mollycoddled schoolboy mocking him with childish gestures?! It looked as if the years of hanging around with Potter and Black had finally taken their toll.

"THAT'S A BIT BLOODY RICH, CALLING -ME- A DOG, MANGE BOY!!" he shrieked back over the noise.

Lupin scowled in frustration and dived to turn off the vacuum. As the noise wound down the two wizards stared at each other warily.

"I wouldn't open that door if I were you, Snape."

"Threatening me now are you?" came the angry sneer. "Do drop the aggression - it doesn't suit your spineless bystander image!"

"I'm not here to fight old battles Snape. And we don't have to worry about Lily - she's gone upstairs to check on James."

"And why should the whereabouts of Potter's wife concern me?" came the cool tone.

Lupin shrugged. "It shouldn't. But I want to talk about something."

"Well, I don't talk to animals," replied Snape coldly. "So, go and find a lamppost to piss up, there's a good doggy."

"I'm willing to strike a deal," muttered Lupin, looking around cautiously. "I'm more than willing to finish off the carpet, if you'll tell me what Nutty got up to in his final year at Hogwarts."

Snape's eyebrows rose above his greasy fringe line. "And why would you want to know something like that?" he hissed suspiciously. "Tell me, Lupin, what could be suddenly so interesting about a seventh year Slytherin? After all, a lot of far more - _critical _- things happened in _our fifth year_......"

Lupin ignored the Slytherin's Death Glare. "I have...er...just heard a confession of sorts, and I am perfectly willing-"

"As dogs are..." mused Snape.

"Please," growled Lupin. "You know I can't help it."

"Help what...?" came the impossible tone.

Lupin's face darkened still further. "You know very well, Snape. And if you don't mind, please try and keep it down - some of the partygoers don't know-"

"Ah, I suggest you remain civil to me then Lupin," whispered Snape nastily. "As Dumbledore isn't around to threaten a _certain person_ into silence now. That _certain person_ just might accidentally let it slip one day..." A horrible smile twisted his mouth. "And then where would you be- ?"

"Nutty was the Seeker for your House's Quidditch team for five years, am I correct?" urged Lupin, desperate to divert the conversation.

"That much is widely known. Oh, how perceptive Gryffindors can be when they put their mind to it!" came the mocking drawl.

"So he must have gained - a few, admirers in his time, then?" replied Lupin carefully.

"Naturally. Though as I found the sport of little interest, I can't say I paid too much attention to his screaming, adoring fans." His tone became snappish, "But if you want a Quidditch discussion, I suggest you go into the other room-"

"Don't worry, I don't," came the hurried reply. "I'm here to talk about admirers. In particular who he dated in his final year."

Snape fixed him with his unpleasantly glinting black eyes. "Oh yes? Then I think the nature of the deal has just changed..."

"In what way?" frowned Lupin.

He smirked. "Not too much to ask, I'm sure. If I give you details, you must promise to clean this room from top to bottom with that. (He shot a filthy look at the vacuum here) _Muggle thing_. Then the additions – first you must report to Lily that I did it."

Snape paused to glance at Lupin, who nodded. So far, so good. "And second - while you are doing the cleaning, you must agree to let me hide out in the conservatory and not tell anyone where I have gone." He scooped a long pale finger into the dessert and licked it, his eyes half closing in an eerie sort of ecstasy. "Because I believ I have some rather tasty reminiscing to do..."

Lupin stared at what Snape was clutching. It was a large bowl of Lily's special charmed Anyflavour ice cream. It automatically changed to whatever flavour you wanted. The curious thing was, he couldn't quite work out exactly what flavour Snape was eating. It looked a bit..._interesting._ Lupin shuddered. What, by Merlin were those other things mixed up in it?

"Well, wolf?" he snapped. "Don't just stand there staring gormlessly. Do you accept?"

"Ah, yes, alright," replied Lupin hurriedly, snapping out of the trance and dragging his eyes away from the bowl's contents. "I agree. But there's one...er...big problem... with the conservatory..."

"A deal's a deal Lupin," snarled Snape. "And as I'm the one with all the information, it'll be my terms or nothing."

Lupin sighed and bit his lip in frustration. "Okay. I accept."

"Fine. But I won't shake on it if you don't mind," drawled Snape. "I don't really fancy catching fleas."

"You can't get dog fleas, Snape. They don't like humans. And I don't get them either," said Lupin wearily. How many times had he explained this to people?

"How fascinating," was the hissed reply. Snape took another fingerful of ice cream. "But I'm still not going near you. You look as if you probably have the Mange. Tell me, did your parents take you to have your sh-"

"Lily near enough told me she dated Nutty in year five, and I want you to tell me how she did it with virtually no one knowing about it," cut in Lupin brusquely.

Snape's finger suddenly paused just outside his mouth, causing the ice cream to slide off the end and plop on the floor. "She told you that?"

Lupin nodded, his eyes bright with anticipation. He noticed that Snape had gone slightly paler than usual.

"Well, in that case, the deal is about to get even more complicated," was the guarded reply. "You do the floor, and then we talk."

"I'd rather you told me before I begin the floor," replied Lupin carefully.

"Ahh, no. My terms, Lupin. My terms. I'll leave you to mull it over. You know where to find me when you've done."

Lupin let his shoulders slump in resignation as Snape smirked at him, turned and began to push down the door handle once more.

He sometimes wondered why he bothered.

In one smoth move, Snape slipped out into the conservatory, drew the curtains, and locked the door behind him.

Was it because he was Good Boy Lupin? Ever the kind Samaritan?

He winced as he heard a muffled yell and then a dull _whump.   
_   
Or was he just a sucker? Maybe he should get some backbone and stand up for himself. Make himself heard for once. Tell people what he wanted.

There was a sound of fingernails tapping frantically against glass. And the sound of a dog whining with excitement.

Maybe it was rather cruel to let him go out there unwarned. But Doobie wouldn't hurt anybody. True, she was huge and scary and slobbery. Most Dobermanns were. But she wouldn't hurt him.

Not intentionally, anyway.

"Lupin!" The tapping became a frenzied banging. "LUPI-AUU-GG-YEUCH! Ptui! You vile, vile beast! I'll hex you 'til you shit rocks - you see if I don't, you damn great disgustin-OOF! No, no, no - give that back! Bad dog! Grrrr! BAD DOG!"

Well, there was only one key to the doors, and Snape had it. So it was up to him to get himself out of the mess. Doobie would calm down in a minute anyway. She always did.

Unless, of course, the vacuum was switched on again...

Lupin felt a slight smile twitch at the corners of his mouth.

* * *

A/N: Chapter 7 is already in the works! Wouldn't want to leave Snape in the conservatory with a happy dog for too long, would we... ;o) smirk 


	7. Getting into the Spirit

A/N: Well here's chapter 7 finally! My new job knocked the stuffing out of me the past few weeks, and I have been too tired to write. So I have written extra to make up for it. Thank you for being so patient. And thanks to everyone who reviewed. You're brilliant!  
  
On with the madness ;-)  
  
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Just as Lupin's finger was hovering over the hoover button he heard the sound of someone shuffling through from the kitchen.  
  
Moony - Moooo-ny! Mooney!  
  
The voice sounded quite upset. Lupin sighed and straightened up. 'I'm in here, Peter.'  
  
'Oh, Moony. Thank you - thank you Merlin!' The stumpy man swayed into view and slouched tipsily against the doorjamb clutching a bottle of butterbeer. 'I have a weensy little problem.'  
  
'Only a weensy little one this time?' Lupin remarked dryly, looking up to scrutinise his fellow Marauder. Upon identifying the problem he groaned.  
  
'Oh dear. Was it truth or dare again?'  
  
'Yes,' sniffed Wormtail awkwardly.  
  
Lupin noted the reason Wormtail was sniffing awkwardly was of course the same reason he was asking for help. 'Looks like someone got you back with your favourite dare,' he smiled.  
  
Wormtail flushed. 'Well, it was really tricky, see,' he mumbled. 'I couldn't do the truth cus I didn't get the question Spencer asked me cus of these really hard words, you know? And then Spencer took the hat off me and then all the others started laughing at me, and I didn't want to sound like I didn't know what he was on about. And you weren't there to stop Padfoot being mean to me. Then Spencer got the bowl of crisps, and said 'let's see how you like it-'  
  
Wormtail let out a good, long wet snivel before taking a consoling swig of butterbeer.  
  
'Oh.' Lupin frowned, trying his best to concentrate on what his friend was slurring, (which was a bit difficult when what sounded like the canine equivalent of break-dancing was going on in the conservatory behind him.) 'Can you remember what question he asked you?'  
  
'Erhm,' Wormtail's little eyes screwed up tightly. 'I think it was something like, something like, uh - Have you ever participated in intumut oral relations with masculine category - or something like that? I'm not stupid, am I Moony, am I? You know what I mean? Don't you?' he whined.  
  
Lupin just about succeeded in replacing his growing smirk with a smile of false compassion. He waved a hand dismissively. 'Oh, don't worry about it, Peter. I'm sure no one thinks you are stupid. And you know a Ravenclaw's favourite book is a dictionary.'  
  
Wormtail wiped his eyes on his sleeve, before smiling back at his friend in relief. 'Oh, good. Thanks Moony.'  
  
'It's fine,' reassured Lupin. 'Just ignore him. You know that people tend to say things they shouldn't when they've had a few.'  
  
Wormtail's brow began to crease up again. 'Uh, Moony so if what he said, he shouldn't have said - do you know what he said then. If he shouldn't have said it? You know?'  
  
'Erhhmm-' Lupin scratched his chin, and pretended to think for a while. Ten seconds of chin scratching was more than enough to fool a gullible friend.  
  
'What's oral relations mean?'  
  
Lupin felt his cheeks heat slightly. 'No. I'm very sorry, Peter, but I really don't know. But, I'm sure it isn't too interesting,' he coughed awkwardly and looked around the room. Was it just him or had everything gone eerily quiet outside?  
  
Doobie let out an excited howl.  
  
Lupin set his teeth. 'I spoke too soon - spoke too - er-' he stopped short when he found Wormtail squinting at him oddly. 'Er, I mean - right! Peter - let's take a look at that cheesy nibble, shall we?'  
  
But it was too late. Wormtail's beady eyes were now peering curiously around the door.  
  
'Where's Doobie? Is she okay?'  
  
'You know she doesn't like the vacuum cleaner. So I put her in the conservatory until the mess was cleared up.' replied Lupin loudly, trying to drown out another eerie moaning sound.  
  
Wormtail's face scrunched up, as he made the huge effort to think. 'Uh, okayy. But-'  
  
'Peter, pay attention, please.' Lupin tapped him gently on the nose with his wand. 'Now, head up, let me get my eye in. Now this might hurt a tad. Accio cheesy nibble!'  
  
Wormtail yelped as the cheeseball shot out the end of his nose with a pop, making his eyes water even more than usual. 'Ooh. Thank you!' he gulped.  
  
'Pleased to help.' As Wormtail rubbed his nose, Lupin could see that his eyes were wandering again.  
  
'But Moony, I still think the poor doggie didn't sound well,' he ventured. 'Shall I get Lily?'  
  
Lupin swiftly crossed over to the patio doors and put his head around the curtains.  
  
What he saw behind them made his eyes water.  
  
'Oh - No, no,' he replied brightly, turning to flash a smile at his friend. 'DOOBIE looks fine, just fine, Peter. Really. The dog is just - fine. But I would be really grateful if you went and got some Firewhiskey.'  
  
Pettigrew's little eyes grew wide. 'For Doobie?'  
  
'No - for me if you don't mind,' said Lupin firmly. 'Yes, for me. I think I could do with some. Yes-' he faltered as he could hear the door key rattling in the lock behind him.  
  
'But I thought you only liked wine? That whiskey's stron-'  
  
'NOW - Peter if you please, not next week!' cut in Lupin sharply.  
  
'Sorry!' Wormtail gulped. He turned around and hurried out just as the French doors flew open.  
  
There was a swoosh as the curtains were flung aside, and a fast moving black object exploded out from behind them. Lupin just managed to slam the dining room door in time to prevent Doobie escaping into the hallway again.  
  
The huge dog halted in her tracks, her tongue lolling out her panting mouth at a lazy angle, a thin line of drool swinging from her chops. She cocked her head and pricked up her ears. Now - there was the nice doggy smelling man smiling at her. And back there was the nice man who had given her a doggie chew. And - what was this delicious cheesy smell? Ah, food! She was allowed all food humans dropped on the floor! All these treats just for her? Good girl! Good girl!  
  
Crunch - CRUNCH - crunch.  
  
All that could be seen of the Dobermann now was a furiously wagging tail poking out from underneath the dining table. It looked as if neither the vacuum nor the cleaning spell would get a look in now.  
  
Crunch - crunch.  
  
A very pale Snape emerged slowly from behind the curtains. 'Lupin-' he wheezed. He bent over, and leant against the wall clutching his stomach with one hand. He was either badly winded, or very out of breath.  
  
Crunch, crunch. Gasp Crunch. Gasp.  
  
His robes covered in slobber, Snape was easily the most-vile thing (bar the "Party Rings") in the room now - if he wasn't before.  
  
Crunch - gasp - crunch - wheeze.  
  
Lupin shook his head. No - he wasn't dreaming. And that made the scene all the more disturbing. If the light were to be switched off now, well, the bizarre images, which might spring up from the medley of noises could be left to the imagination.  
  
The dining room door creaked open. An eager voice began to rush. 'Oh, Moony I have the whiskey but Lily took the blackcurrant juice away so don't tell me off please I brought some of this other stuff though but I - er-'  
  
Wormtail trailed off as a very bedraggled, slimy, wheezing Slytherin staggered forward and snatched the bottle out of his hands.  
  
'Eep!'  
  
'Not obliged, Gryffindors-' was the sneered whisper of a reply.  
  
Lupin and Wormtail exchanged nervous glances as Snape lifted his trembling hand and began to knock back neat whiskey as if it were pumpkin juice. Coughing and spluttering in between gulps.  
  
And then not to forget the attractive sound of a large hungry dog eating small crunchy snacks.  
  
Crunch, snap-crunch. Gulp, gulp, gasp, cough, cough, woof, hack, hack, splutter - cough!  
  
'Er, Snape,' began Lupin nervously, beginning to develop a nervous twitch to rival Wormtail's. 'Are you aware that that stuff has quite a - a - erm- high-'  
  
'Fourty nine point - two percent! I - k-know - imbecile!' was all Snape managed to get out between coughs. He grimaced. 'B-but tastes - b-better - than - DOG!'  
  
Wormtail swallowed, and looked wide eyed at Lupin. 'Err- what's he been doing with-' He backed off as Snape shot him a murderous glance. 'Never mind!' he squeaked.  
  
Snape bared a set of rather mangy teeth. 'Go away - nasty little rat!'  
  
'I - I' Wormtail's eyes goggled. 'Okay! I'm going, I'm going!'  
  
Lupin shot an alarmed glance at Snape once his friend had gone. 'How did you know?' he exclaimed.  
  
Snape sneered as he raised the bottle to take another hefty swig. 'Know what?  
  
'That Wormtail's a rat?!'  
  
Snape paused and peered strangely at Lupin. A slight smirk began to creep across his face. 'Lupin, that is very Slytherin of you to speak ill of a friend behind their back,' he whispered. 'I think you may have gone up in my estimation!'  
  
Lupin felt a wave of relief wash over him. Snape still didn't know his friends were illegal Animagi - he was merely being insulting!  
  
And then he realised he was actually smiling at Snape.  
  
Snape's smirk was quickly replaced by a sneer of disgust. 'I was only joking, Lupin. You haven't a hope in hell of me liking you.'  
  
Lupin shrugged. 'Sorry.'  
  
The loud sniffing and chomping stopped just then as Doobie ran out of snacks to hoover off the floor. She reversed out from under the table, lifted her head and sniffed Lupin's leg. Much to Snape's horror, the dog then turned round and fixed an expectant gaze on him.  
  
'Wuff!'  
  
Snape licked his lips nervously as he watched the furiously wagging tail. 'Keep that bitch - away from me.'  
  
Lupin raised an amused eyebrow. 'Well, she likes you - a lot, I think. She's very choosy whom she likes. She's always been wary of Sirius, you know.'  
  
'Correction,' was the pained reply. 'She liked my wand - a lot.'  
  
Lupin blinked. 'Your-'  
  
'Yes - stupid bleached mongrel, my wand! Thought dogs are supposed to have good hearing!?' he growled, trying to straighten his robes. 'Blasted Potter owes me (cough - then something indecipherable) wand!'  
  
Lupin frowned. What would happen if a wand was ingested? Had such a thing happened before? Bearing in mind that it was James's dog, of all dogs, who had Severus Snape's wand jammed in its intestines?  
  
'We-ell,' he mused, watching the glowering, freshly-licked wizard's face. 'I suppose you could always wait a few hours until the inevitable happens-'  
  
Severus had too little breath for his voice to reach any volume. The result was more a strangled hiss. 'INEVIT (gasp)YOU ARE NOT (gasp) FUNNY (gasp) LUPIN!'  
  
Snape's outburst didn't last long, however, as Doobie leapt toward in a sudden display of misguided affection. (The nice man who gave her a doggie chew was getting upset again. She couldn't have that. Oh, no. She will kiss him to make it better!)  
  
'Agh!' Lupin couldn't help smiling as Snape once again staggered under the weight of hound.  
  
The dining room door creaked slowly open.  
  
'Hey, is there any food left for me? Groovy party by the way!'  
  
Lupin turned to stare at the stranger in the doorway. He was a young, tall but stockily built bleach blonde, with a ruddy face. From what Lupin could make out, the man was dressed in some sort of Muggle uniform.  
  
Lupin made a gesture toward the table. 'Plenty still there, help yourself!'  
  
The man began to cross the room, but stopped abruptly and turned back toward Lupin. 'Oh, so sorry! Allow me to introduce myself. My name's Nigel Norway, and I do Godric's Hollow's milk round.  
  
His dark eyes twinkled mischievously as he looked across at a glaring Snape, who currently had a dog hanging off his shoulder. 'And you are?'  
  
'None of your damn business Muggle!' spat Snape, who was still flicking crisps onto the floor in an attempt to distract the Doobie away from him.  
  
Nigel sighed. 'Squib, actually. A real tragedy. Five wizarding brothers and sisters, and then me.'  
  
Snape sneered. 'How unfortunate.'  
  
'Yes,' said Nigel vaguely. 'Four Hogwart's letters and one Durmstrang. But by the time I turned eleven, I hadn't even managed to accidentally transfigure a cat!'  
  
Snape's lips curled still further. 'I repeat. How unfortunate.'  
  
Lupin decided to chip in here. He offered a hand, which Norway shook firmly. 'Hello. I'm Remus Lupin. It's nice to meet you Nigel.'  
  
Nigel's mouth spread into a white toothed grin. 'And you.' He then turned his attention to the dog, completely ignoring the other man. 'How are ye Doobs? Wassit? Dja want a biscuit?'  
  
Doobie's ears pricked up. She gazed at the milkman and wagged her tail slightly, but did not move.  
  
'Aw Doobs! C'mon girl!' the man coaxed.  
  
Snape watched the dog. It seemed torn between picking up the crisps on the floor, and greeting the man. Finally, she decided that Snape's crisps were more interesting.  
  
Nigel's expression fell. 'Aw! Whassa matter?'  
  
'I think the mutt knows a proper wizard when it sees one,' said Snape smugly, before turning around and regarding the party food once more. Was it just him, or did Firewhiskey have the tendency to make you feel very hungry?  
  
Nigel's eyes narrowed slightly as he turned them on the disagreeable Slytherin, but his smile refused to wane. 'She does like me. But you know what dogs are like. Stomach comes first every time.'  
  
Snape wasn't really listening. Inane party chit-chat was the last thing he was interested in. Now - would he have that ice cream he left in the conservatory? Or would he try something different for once? Cake perhaps? Even those pink biscuits looked - dare he say - attractive?  
  
Lupin frowned. Nigel Norway? The name sounded really familiar - but he couldn't place it. 'Have we met?' he enquired politely.  
  
'Oh, no!' Nigel chuckled as he began to load party food onto a plate. 'Do I have one of those faces? Well, I did have a bar job in Hogsmeade a few years ago. Maybe I served you there once?' He snickered. 'Underage? The Gryffindor's love of taking risks, perhaps?''  
  
'Can't have,' replied Lupin thoughtfully. 'Or I would remember you.'  
  
Nigel dug the end of a stick of celery into a bowl of chunky peanut butter and then bit it off. 'Wow. Got a memory for faces, have you?'  
  
Lupin's expression remained calm. 'Yes. Sort of.'  
  
Nigel shrugged. 'Impressive. Never mind. But you know pubs are all a bit of a haze after a few drinks.'  
  
Lupin nodded in agreement. Well, he would agree - but he didn't exactly want to admit that he had never got drunk in a pub before - he had always been the sober one of the Marauders.  
  
Just as Snape re-emerged from the conservatory with a still intact bowl of ice cream, Lily reappeared in the dining room doorway.  
  
'Nigel!' she cooed, tottering forward. Darling! Ooh, I'm so glad you could get a few hours off! How are you sweetie? Help yourself to the food. Plenty there!'  
  
Snape winced as the shrill voice rang out once again, pulled a face as Lily did the 'kissy-kissy' greeting thing, then glared at the man as he proceeded to suck up to the lady.  
  
'Never mind me,' fawned Nigel, showing his white teeth again. 'How is the Emerald-eyed Goddess this evening?'  
  
Snape sneered. Emerald-eyed Goddess? If she wanted poetry, he could do better than that!  
  
If he wanted to, that was.  
  
Which, of course, he didn't.  
  
Snape caught himself. Was he jealous? What of? A milkman squib? He glanced at the nearly empty bottle of whiskey. It had been half full when he had it.  
  
Merlin, he would regret this in the morning!  
  
He smirked and as he took another hefty swig he thought of his phial of Pepper up Potion.  
  
No he wouldn't.  
  
'Well, sweetie, I'm just fine,' cooed Lily. 'We had a bit of a disaster earlier, so you'll have to excuse the vacuum cleaner.'  
  
Nigel tutted. 'Ooh, the carpet. Poor you!'  
  
Lupin saw Snape's eyes slide across to him. He cleared his throat. 'Yes, er, Severus here did as you asked. Vacuumed the room - top to bottom.'  
  
'Oh, good. But such a pity you didn't put the vacuum away, Snape,' she replied coldly. 'That would be the least I'd expect.'  
  
Snape blinked.  
  
'Well. You have to know what a lady wants, Snape,' added Nigel coolly. 'And doing the housework for her means doing it properly. Every one should respect that.'  
  
Lupin and Snape exchanged odd glances that both seemed to relay the same thought.  
  
Who was this dipshit?  
  
Lily put her hands on her hips and glared. 'Well Snape?'  
  
Snape felt his cheeks heat up. How dare she gang up on him with a total stranger? Very reluctantly he crossed the room and began to wind up the vacuum cord.  
  
Nigel smirked. 'And Snape old boy, after you've done that a Tequila Sunrise would be nice. Oh, while you're at it. another wine for Lily here.'  
  
Snape snarled. Old boy?! Clutching the bowl of ice cream to his chest, he dragged the vacuum cleaner petulantly from the room in a swirl of black robes and bad temper.  
  
Lily giggled behind her hand. 'Oh, you're so rude!'  
  
Nigel's lip curled. 'Not at all! He deserves every bit of it. The greasy slimeball.'  
  
Lupin frowned.  
  
'Anyhow. I have a surprise for you petal,' the milkman grinned. You'd better transfigure something into a pair of sunglasses. You're going to need them for this!'  
  
Lily watched curiously as Nigel began to undo his white uniform jacket. Once the buttons were undone he paused for a second before whipping it off.  
  
Lily screeched with laughter. 'Oh my poor eyes! What ARE you like?!'  
  
Merlin! Lupin found himself squinting at a sudden shocking display of florescent colours. Nigel's bright pink and silver kipper tie and green shirt were the least of his worries - it was the flowery orange jacket that scared him the most.  
  
'Muggle fashion is the grooviest thing, isn't it?' chuckled Nigel. 'This is all the rage in the discos.'  
  
Lily giggled. 'Isn't it? My Muggle cousin would adore your jacket! Where did you get it?'  
  
'The same place I got those gold platforms. Oh, I must be seven foot tall with those things on!'  
  
Lily squawked. 'Oh, I don't know how you can manage to walk in those things!'  
  
Lupin sighed quietly to himself. He didn't understand or care for fashion much. Glitz? Glam? What was wrong with a simple robe? And Nigel Norway sounded so familiar too!  
  
Maybe it was time to move rooms again.  
  
And as he had fulfilled his half of the deal between Snape, Snape owed him some information, didn't he?  
  
Lupin excused himself by picking up a random empty glass and pretending he needed another drink. Reaching the hallway he found himself rather lost for direction again.  
  
Fashion in one room, giggly girls in another, Quidditch in another, and spin the bottle in the kitchen.  
  
Snape it would have to be, again. But the way the man had been drinking, maybe he would let something slip accidentally.  
  
So what if the man was a miserable sod? One bitter tongue wouldn't stop him from finding out more about the Gryffindor - Slytherin dirty dorm room secret.  
  
Or secrets.  
  
Lupin peeked around the kitchen door into a room thick with cigarette smoke. Nigel had asked for a Tequila Sunrise, but he could see no sign of Snape near the cocktail shakers. Or anywhere in the kitchen, to be exact.  
  
Lupin doubled back. Well, Snape didn't like Quidditch, so he wouldn't be in the study. And he would hardly dare venture into the living room.  
  
Where would a drunken, angry slobbered-on Slytherin with a penchant for dark hexes and weird ice cream go in a party full of his enemies?  
  
Surely he hadn't gone upstairs?  
  
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A/N: Chapter 8. Will Nutty and Lily's secret finally be revealed? And exactly how much whiskey and ice cream can Snape consume without throwing up? 


	8. Out the Closet, in the Closet

A/N: Hi All! I'm so, so sorry that I have taken so long to update. I was thrown out of the routine by a family death and a few problems at work. But here is chapter eight anyway – longer than usual chapter - and chapter nine is half written and will be posted soon. Thank you so much for all your reviews – (To those who pointed out a couple of mistakes in my fics thank you also – as this is useful info!)  
  
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The kitchen had had its blackcurrant juice confiscated, the Firewhisky had found its way into a needy Slytherin's clutches, and Sirius Black was down to his last few Muggle fags. These were potentially big issues at that stage in the party, but they paled in comparison to a slightly larger one, in checked shirt and jeans slumped on a low stool in the Potter's kitchen.  
  
The cowboy had gone and successfully mounted his high horse of drunkenness, to great amusement of the partygoers, but now was rapidly slipping off the saddle into drunken paranoia. Which – if you have ever been around a drunk- turned paranoid at a party isn't very funny – at all. But bear with me.  
  
"Truth it is then," muttered Sharpe. "Might as well, anyway. My confession is -" he tailed off.  
  
"Go ahead then," smiled Perks (who, due to some bizarre game was currently wearing the Stetson.) "Out with the smut. Can't be any worse than what Mark's just said!"  
  
"My confession-" repeated the rather melancholy Ravenclaw – "is that I have known the agonisingly unbearable pangs of unrequited love."  
  
"Pah!" Sirius snorted. "What in Merlin, Sharpe? That's not a revelation! Everyone knew that back at school!"  
  
The Ravenclaw curled his lip. "No they didn't Black. No they absolutely did not. They made assumptions – but they never bothered to ask for the proper truth!"  
  
Sirius flicked his ash derisively. "And so? Who gives a Harpy shit if some poor boy you saw in the Quidditch shower room didn't fancy bending over-"  
  
"Oh what's the use!" ejaculated Sharpe dramatically, flinging out his arms and sending most of the contents of his glass splattering up the kitchen cabinet and wall behind him. "What is the use of going on with life? What is the point of putting up with this flipping prejudiced attitude every day? I might just kill myself, actually. Yes - if I killed myself, would it make you happy? Would it?!"  
  
A confused frown appeared between Sirius's eyebrows. "What?"  
  
Wormtail tittered.  
  
"See! This is the rub," slurred Sharpe, still waving the near empty glass about, his voice full of drink-induced woe. "You don't understand. You don't understand me - no you don't. You just don't realise what it was like - keeping it all inside. Six years I tried to keep it to myself. Thinking there was something wrong with me for f-for. Six years! And now, and now I can't – I just c-cannoo-oooww-w-wha- a-a-Ahhh!"  
  
Sharpe reached for the tea towel on the hanger next to him, crumpled it up to his face and let out a long grizzly howl.  
  
Black crossed over to Sharpe, who was now rocking back and forth on his stool. "Hey – you know I was joking, yeah," he replied gruffly. "Just a bit of fun – a party, you know? Mad drunk people?"  
  
"Six years Black," came the tea towel muffled sob. "Six years, and all I hope to get is the same tired, pathetic joke about soap and showers? It cheapens it – cheapens, sullies, besmirches the purity, pollutes the - you know what it makes me feel like doing sometimes? Do you?" he gabbled, lowering his hands to gesture wildly. He sniffed several times and began to twist the tea towel roughly around, scowling. "OH! One of these days I might just, do this to them – and THIS, and then - uuh-Ooh!"  
  
There was a clang and a clatter as Sharpe twisted too enthusiastically and skidded clumsily off his stool to land in a heap on the beer-soaked floor. Falling hard on the floor didn't seem to bother him one bit though, (Perhaps due to his being a Quidditch player) and he continued to moan and wring the towel as if nothing had happened.  
  
"Er, right," Black looked awkwardly round at Wormtail, who was staring gormlessly at Sharpe, before casting a quick look at Perks, who seemed to be caught in that terrible mouth-twitching dilemma in choosing between having a good snigger, or remaining dour faced.  
  
"Perhaps you have just had one shot too many, Spence. Maybe it would be better if we took you upstairs to sleep it off?"  
  
Sharpe sighed bitterly, a faraway look in his eye. "You know Black, from that very first day he let me borrow some of his Spick's Broomstick Wax, I knew I was different. I just didn't understand then. It drove me mad – his being so - so sweet-"  
  
Sirius decided it was probably nigh time to do the needed thing, and bent over getting a hand under Sharpe's armpit, before gesturing to Perks, and pointing in the direction of the stairs. A few moments later they had him standing, albeit rather unsteadily.  
  
"Come on mate, let's get you upstairs."  
  
"He was different to any other friend that would help you with Arithmancy or such, you know," remarked Sharpe wistfully as they got him to stumble up a step at a time.  
  
"Really?" answered Perks politely.  
  
Sharpe nodded and half smiled. "He was my special Quidditch person. He was a brilliant, brilliant specialist with brooms, knew what exactly what wax to use on what wood. He would always bring his Spicks, and you know, he always could tell when my broom needed waxing by the way I used it in practice."  
  
Sirius coughed and felt himself go slightly red in the face. "Er, right."  
  
****  
  
"Sons of bloody Hags! I hate blasted werewolves, mutts, Gryffindors and all random Muggle dunderheads!"  
  
Snape growled as three pairs of clumsy, drunk wizard feet thudded directly above him – causing bits of dust to float down like large bits of dandruff and stick rather unbecomingly onto his dog-slobbered robe.  
  
Yes, you might have guessed it Reader, Snape was hiding under the Potters' stairs. Not a very original move, but it wasn't an intentional one either. Initially he had gone to put the vacuum cleaner away; not because he was one of those housekeeping "New Wizards" so loathfully drooled over in drivelsome publications like Witch Weekly, oh no, but because he was on the pilfer, it was a charm-expert's vacuum cleaner – and he was a scheming little grass snake.  
  
Anyway, he had opened the cupboard door, cast a nonchalant eye in it before throwing the cleaner in and had then slammed it shut.  
  
And then he had blinked and paused as curiosity got its subtle and inevitably toothy hold of him. Either he was hallucinating, or had he just seen a vacuum cleaner disappear through the cupboard wall?  
  
And since when did dingy little cupboards under the stairs have cave-like echos?  
  
Opening the door again he had stuck an arm in to confirm what the first glance had hinted – there was indeed a false wall at the back of the cupboard. He then stuck his head through it and stared. To say the Potter's cupboard was roomy would be an understatement. It was near the size of a bloody squash court!! (Please no questions – I have no idea either why Severus Snape would hold a secret cache of knowledge about Muggle racquet and ball games. But the important fact here is that the cupboard was about the size of a squash court, including the height.)  
  
Snape stooped down to get through the low door and in one step had passed completely through the wall.  
  
He blinked and looked around dazedly at plain whitewashed walls, then straight upwards at a high ceiling criss-crossed with exposed wooden beams draped in old cobwebs. In the middle of the dusty floor was a long wooden bench table with rows of stools on each side. The place was pretty gloomy - in fact, if it wasn't for the lone low wattage light bulb glowing on the opposite wall the place would be completely pitch black.  
  
The place was windowless, chill, gloomy, and rather busy with spiders, just like the dungeons in this respect. Snape smirked; yes most of Potter's house was horrible, but this room, well, he had to begrudgingly note that he rather liked it.  
  
As for what the hell Potter was hiding down here, well that was anybody's guess. Wizards often had secret walls and invisible caches. It might be a secret meeting room, perhaps?  
  
Still with his precious cargo of ice cream and whiskey, Snape crept across to the other side of the room (Not-so-accidentally aiming a vicious kick to the vacuum on the way) and settled himself on a stool.  
  
He felt slightly light headed, and had to admit that the room was going around a little more than it was a few moments ago. He had decided that he would allow himself to get as drunk as humanely possible before taking the pepper-up, thus getting maximum use out of Potter's unintended "hospitality."  
  
As he banged the bowl down on the table a spider skittered across it. For a second eight glittering black eyes met two glinting black ones.  
  
Snape took a mouthful of ice cream and peered lazily down his nose at the spider, which was, as he noted, a large, and well-fed Tegenaria gigantea - female. A spot of arachnid torturing certainly wouldn't go amiss – if he had a wand.  
  
That idea foiled, he flicked the spider off the table and scowled into his ice cream – those vile, vile dogs!  
  
It was all Potter's fault, naturally. If Potter hadn't been such a dickhead at school then he would have left he, Snape, alone. If Potter hadn't been such a dickhead, he wouldn't have befriended the idiot Black, he, Snape would never have been drooled on by a werewolf, and Evans would never have had to step in to "save" their long line of unfortunate victims, causing them additional angst, torture and prompting yet another biased Dumbledore dealing.  
  
And - if Potter hadn't been such a dickhead he wouldn't have married Evans, wouldn't have got a family-size dog, and they wouldn't ever have thrown this ridiculous party which had been so kind as to have given him an almighty bruise on his leg, a broken nose, crushed ribs, raised blood pressure and a completely ruined cloak.  
  
The last stretch of reasoning didn't exactly work, but a Snape with ice cream was beyond caring. It was all quite surreal – either the Firewhiskey was gaining hold, or the roof beams were beginning to move of their own accord (Which in the wizarding world, was also quite plausible.)  
  
He actually began to feel quite relaxed for the first time that evening - until his eyes focused on a piece of cord hanging from the ceiling near the false wall, that was.  
  
Now – Muggles and their things had always annoyed him, but that wasn't to say that they didn't ever pique his interest. With their strange little inventions it was obvious they had tried quite hard to make up for their obvious deficiencies. That said – backwards or not Muggles always seemed to have a sensible reason to dangle things like a piece of thread from the ceiling.  
  
It was white piece of cord, around five feet long with a little plastic weight on the end of it. It was this simple little unassuming piece of nylon weave that was bothering him now. In fact it wasn't just bothering him – it was practically singing "Pull! Pull!" at him in an incredibly annoying falsetto strain.  
  
Now that last bit had to be the whiskey talking.  
  
What if he went over there and pulled it? What would happen?  
  
"Don't be a complete troll, Severus," he snarled to himself. This is Potter's house – it would be complete madness for a Slytherin to go poking and prying around in it! What if it was a trap? What was a thing like that doing in a wizard's house anyway?  
  
He focused his attention back on the ice cream, but was completely unable to get the cord out of his mind.  
  
Pull me, pull me.  
  
Oh pull me. Pull me, puuulll -  
  
Right! He could stand it no longer! Storming across to it, he stared closely at it before making the first move.  
  
Upon discovering that it did nothing but sway gently when he poked it or tapped it with a finger several times, Snape took a gentle hold on it and gave a very light pull.  
  
Nothing.  
  
Encouraged by this, Snape smirked slightly, raised his arm a little and gave a harder tug.  
  
Click.  
  
Snape blinked. Had he gone blind, or had the room gone completely black? He reached for his wand, before realising that it was in the dog.  
  
Blast.  
  
And then it dawned on him. Of course. How could he be so bloody stupid and let such a prehistoric bit of moronic Muggle technology catch him out? This cord had to be a simple type of light switch of course! The nox and lumos of their little insect-like society!  
  
So – Muggle indeed.  
  
With a stroppy snarl Snape clenched the cord and give it another tug to turn the light on again. Except for that this tug was quite a bit more vicious than the previous one.  
  
Ping - SNAP!  
  
Darkness.  
  
Snape was NOT having a good evening. 


	9. Witches and Switches

A/N: Thank you all so much for your kind reviews! I'm happy this is entertaining people, and promise that I will update more often!  
  
By the time they had reached the top of the stairs Sharpe had fallen asleep, so it was more a case of Perks and Sirius dragging him across the landing, past the bathroom and into the spare bedroom where they lumped him on his back on the bed, where he immediately began to snore loudly. That done, they went to head back downstairs.  
  
Wrinkling his nose at the inevitable overused toilet-at-party whiff, Sirius halted and pushed open the toilet door. He stepped back as he caught sight of a hunched figure sprawled over the toilet. It was James "Prongs" Potter, the Dark Lord-thwarting, poor excuse for a piss-artist Auror, asleep with his head half in the bowl – snoring - loudly.  
  
It was a pretty amusing sight.  
  
His long-time schoolmate slouched against the doorframe and let out an amused snort. "Bollocks – James! Lils will go mad!"  
  
Perks grinned as he too peered into the bathroom. "Too right she will. Especially if that dark patch's what I think it is on the carpet!"  
  
Sirius took the fag out of his mouth to roll it casually between thumb and forefinger. "Perky mate. Don't get your knickers in a twist - there's nothing a good cleaning spell can't do in the morning – even when it comes to dried-in, retched-up blackcurrant. Except if you're a bloody dickweed of a useless Wormtail, that is. He would have a problem transfiguring a twig into a stick!"  
  
The Hufflepuff took out a half-eaten bag of party snacks from a hidden pocket in his robes and began to munch thoughtfully. "Shall we move him?"  
  
"We-ll it'd probably be a good thing – seeing as it's the only bog this place has," he remarked sarcastically. "Would you think it groovy if some drunk bastard came along and took a slash on your head?"  
  
"Who would!" snickered the Hufflepuff lightly.  
  
Black raised an eyebrow and nonchalantly blew out a breath of smoke.  
  
"Snape."  
  
Perks snorted, hiccoughed and nearly choked on his mouthful of Cheesy Party Nibbles.

* * *

Lupin was more confused than he had been in a while. He had even resorted to looking in the living room and there was still no sign of Snape. Now he was loitering in the hallway again, still with the suspicious telltale empty glass. Maybe he should just fill it part full with water and pretend it was Vodka?  
  
Now to disclose a really awful secret that Remus Lupin never liked to disclose to anybody – not even his fellow Marauders knew about it. This was the secret of his sense of smell. It wasn't anywhere near as powerful between moons, but it was at least a couple of times more powerful than any normal humans.  
  
The reason why he didn't tell anyone this was pretty obvious. Who in hell would ever want to be told that you could smell them coming half the room off? Could tell by the smell exactly who was in a room without even opening his eyes, and tell them if their feet smelt?  
  
Now that was one freakishly un-funky party trick if anything was. He could just imagine the girls going running after that one.  
  
No one was in the hallway. Lupin dilated his nostrils. Snape was not upstairs, because his scent wasn't on the staircase. Nor had he gone near the front door, or through into the kitchen. Yet his scent was stronger in the hallway than in any other room.  
  
There was a sudden crash from the kitchen followed by a few guffaws of laughter. Lupin wrinkled his nose. He didn't even want to make a guess at what they were doing in there.  
  
'Ooh, Reamie!'  
  
Lupin shut his eyes. He had smelt that coming.  
  
Gracie fluttered her eyelashes at him. 'Staying all on your lonesome, or were you coming in to get a top up?'  
  
Remus swallowed. 'Erm-'  
  
'And where's Lily? She went to get another couple of bottles ages ago. We're parched in here!'  
  
Remus pulled at a strand of his bleached hair nervously (Sirius had actually bleached it for him – said it looked cool. Not that Remus ever really got the hang of fashion.)  
  
'Er – I don't know,' he lied, thinking that Lily probably wouldn't want to be found if a milkman was willingly taking off his clothes for her.  
  
Gracie began to smirk. As she leaned in closer, Lupin had to try his hardest not to wrinkle his nose up at her breath, which smelt like a winery.  
  
'Is he a real blonde?'  
  
Lupin opened then shut his mouth awkwardly. "Er, bleached."  
  
Gracie smiled and tapped her nose knowingly.'  
  
'Ahh – the dishy Muggle milkman. Her secret will be safe with us, won't it Reamie?!' she cackled.  
  
"Which secret – the bleach one or the Lily one?" commented Lupin offhandedly, but Gracie was too busy laughing at her own joke to hear it.  
  
"Who is he?" he asked, a little louder over her mirth.  
  
Gracie shrugged, and propped herself up on the doorframe to hide the telltale drunken sway. 'He's the local friendly milkman – that's all I've heard. Who cares? She's just having a little bit of fun!"  
  
Their conversation was then cut off by a few people stumbling into the hallway – namely Sirius, Perks and their drunken cargo. Lupin raised his eyebrows as he saw who they were carrying, and was about to comment, when Gracie half dragged him into the living room out of their way.  
  
"Remus! How dare you have an empty glass!"

* * *

Lily had almost got as far as undoing his garish kipper tie, before she paused, and frowned. "But that's what you always say. 'Your Local Friendly Milkman.' Surely you can tell me a bit more about yourself than that?"  
  
Norway looked at her meaningfully. His dark eyes both confused and entranced her. They were hypnotic, as was his decidedly well-spoken voice. It was artificial, of course – the posh accent - not the real thing like James's. But it was this that intrigued her far more – the idea of mystery lying behind it. As was the mystery behind his dyed hair. Sometimes she was far too reckless for her own good.  
  
He grinned impishly, the corners of his eyes wrinkling up. "Okay. I am Your Local, Friendly, Platform Shoe-loving Milkman!"  
  
"Seriously now!" pouted Lily, giving the Kipper tie a moody tug and keeping firm hold of it as if it were a lead attached to a naughty dog. "You do this every time I ask you to be serious, Nigel. I've been honest with you, why won't you be honest with me!"  
  
"Because -" he replied in a low whisper, coming so close to her ear as to brush it with his lips, "– I much prefer being a joker."  
  
Lily couldn't help tingling all over as he pulled away. Smiling, she took tighter hold of his tie and pulled him back. "Aren't jokers supposed to entertain people? You aren't being very entertaining."  
  
Her persuasive smile faltered, however, when Nigel suddenly took hold of her hands and prised them gently, yet firmly off his tie. "As you can see by the enthusiastic way you are handling my tie, you are quite capable of entertaining yourself, Miss Evans."  
  
Lily wasn't phased. "And what makes you so knowledgeable about that, Mister Norway?" she smiled cheekily, leaning closer in. "Kiss me."  
  
Nigel paused and looked around cautiously, an uncertain look seeming to flit in his eyes. "As much as I'd -"  
  
Lily scoffed, and made a grab for him. Norway was having none of it however, and swang her round rather roughly, pinning her at arm's length against the closed dining room door. When Lily giggled and tried to move away, Nigel just held her more tightly.  
  
Lily's eyes grew wide. "Local Friendly Milkman?" she exclaimed, "trapping a customer in their dining room is hardly friendly, Nigel."  
  
"You're hardly a customer," muttered Nigel, keeping hold of her.  
  
Lily blinked. "Hardly a? Since when did I?"  
  
"And I'm not trapping you in. If anyone's being trapped here, it's me!" he replied hotly. "No offence, but I'd rather not kiss you."  
  
Lily pouted for a moment in exasperation, before slumping moodily back against the door. "Oh. It's like that, is it? I'M trapping YOU?"  
  
"No – it's not like that at all! I can't say what's trapping me, but trust me – it's not you." Nigel leaned in closer, his eyes glinting slightly. "And I can't tell you more about myself either. If I told you that, I'm afraid I will have to -"  
  
Lily felt herself shrink away at the tone of his voice. He sounded strange, and the odd look in his eye scared her a little. "Nigel?"  
  
Nigel gave a weary sigh and hung his head. "Lily, it hurts to be unable to explain – but now is not the best time -"  
  
"Not the best time? So when? Will five-thirty a.m. over the semi-skimmed do for you?" Lily challenged derisively. "Or perhaps I need to order more things like orange juice and cheese, or charm the change to stick to the bottom of the milk bottle just to give you time to explain?"  
  
Nigel scowled back at her. "Don't joke."  
  
"Why? All right for jokers, but not all right for anyone else?!" she exclaimed more loudly.  
  
"Shush Lily!"  
  
Before Lily had time to retort back though, the room was abruptly plunged into darkness.

* * *

Snape scowled. He didn't understand. The damned vacuum thing worked this way – why the hell wouldn't the light work the same way? He flicked another switch down with a clunk, then another, becoming more and more annoyed. It was all elec-treesity as far as he understood. After spending the time groping around in the dark to hunt one out, you'd think by process of elimination one of them would've worked!  
  
"Damned bloody Muggles! click Why have so many switches in a room, click and have none of the blasted things work the light!"

* * *

Click.  
  
"Bugger!" yelled Sirius, colliding with a doorframe, and almost dropping the deadweight of a James Potter down the stairs as the landing suddenly became pitch black. "Why'd Lily insist on keeping the bloody Muggle electric when they moved in? What's wrong with a few light charms here and there!"  
  
"Erm," panted Perks, trying to hold Potter upright and make sense of the gloom. "Maybe because it reminds her of home? My aunt was Muggleborn and we couldn't keep her away from the television!"  
  
Sirius laughed bitterly. "Hah. Must be nice to get all nostalgic about home!"

* * *

"Oh, dear."  
  
"What's happened Remus?"  
  
"Well, it might be a fuse blown. The trip switch has switched the lights off. I expect Lily will see to it."  
  
"And what's a fuse Reamie dear? Oh, he's so knowledgeable!"  
  
Remus sighed.

* * *

"Ooh!" squealed Wormtail. "The light's gone off!"

* * *

Lily huffed. "Oh, that flipping trip switch!"  
  
There was a blank pause. "Trip Switch?"  
  
"The cut off point for the electric in the house. I expect a bulb's blown. Give me a second and I'll do it."  
  
Nigel moved forward and pulled her away from the door. "Not in your state you won't."  
  
Lily shrank back and blinked blindly upwards. If only there was light, she could see what expression was fixed on her!  
  
He grabbed her wrist, she tried to pull it around behind her, but he pulled it back.  
  
"Please," he begged, gently.  
  
There was a pause. He wasn't holding her roughly this time – but firmly. Lily took in a breath and relaxed her muscles. She heard him sigh in relief before taking her hand and enclosing it in both his. His voice was soft, and somehow mournful.  
  
"I can't tell you how I know this – now is not the best time. But I know you are in danger, you and James."  
  
Lily's breath hitched as Nigel's voice came closer. He was sending shivers down her spine again.  
  
"There is a Death Eater in this house." 


	10. The Dark Lark

No one could deny that Gracie enjoyed parties. She also enjoyed setting people up, so many people gathered around a common alcohol source provided her with the ideal ammunition for her hobby. Willing to couple or otherwise, it mattered not.  
  
Her latest project might prove to be the trickiest one yet. He was placid, reserved and rather clever, but as far as she understood had never had a girlfriend. All the more attractive a challenge! The girls had bets on the reason behind his bachelor status, so to test one of them she just couldn't resist leaning over and whispering something in her target's ear while swapping his empty glass for a full one.  
  
She watched as her target, mumbled, turned very red and suddenly found examining the glass he was holding very, very interesting indeed. Gracie couldn't help giggling as she cast a glance back at the girls – she had been right.  
  
"Aw, bless you Remus, sweetie!" she gushed out. "Don't worry, I tell you what, I've got this lovely, lovely friend of mine – just like you, sweet. She's twenty, but had a home tutor – never went to wizard school as she had to care for her mum you see. She got two NEWTS though! Lives in a gorgeous town in Sussex now. Now - if you like..."  
  
Remus listened patiently as ever as Gracie attempted to "set him up" with yet another person. She had done this before at the leaver's ball at Hogwarts, but there she was likely far too drunk to remember it. As before, it wouldn't work. Unless the girl she described was also a lycanthrope - of course. Otherwise there would be simply no way he would ever risk a relationship. All it took was one bite or a careless scratch...  
  
Remus sighed. The more he attempted to drown Gracie's voice out, the more he noticed that a certain smell was tickling his nostrils. A faint tang of – what - exactly?  
  
His eyes moved down to his glass, which he still held stiffly in his hand. Remus swirled the glass around and waited for the smell to waft up again. What in Merlin had Gracie given him? It looked like sherry – but it didn't smell quite like it. In fact, the more he thought about it, the more paranoid he became that she had added something to it...  
  
"– I mean, she really is lovely Remus. If you like I can drop a few hints (wink, wink) I for a fact know what she'd like is if you could take her for a walk around the Weald, or go to the Downs -"  
  
"-only if it was on four legs and around the full moon," thought Remus dully to himself. But that smell - Godric's beard it was driving him to distraction! Was he really getting as paranoid as Snape, thinking that everyone is out to poison him? Maybe it was just a different version of a Muggle drink, or a Lily special –  
  
Snape! That's who he was looking for before he got sidetracked! Clearing his throat, Remus used the combo excuse of needing the loo/I've eaten too much prawn cocktail, (one of Sirius's tried and tested) but only got as far as a hand on the door handle before the lights flickered and failed.  
  
The girls had a mixed reaction to this – "Oooh!" noises coming from the startled, "Whoo-oohh!" calls from the more mischievous, and nothing at all from the utterly pissed (Except for maybe half a grunt, or a snore.)  
  
Remus blinked as the pitch-blackness floated before his eyes. He had always thought it typical of his luck – why was it he was stuck with the mighty power of smelling people's feet across the room, but when it came to something more useful like seeing in the dark – he get bog standard human eyesight? With all the monthly problems he had to deal with, couldn't he have at least been blessed with that little help?  
  
"Oh, dear," he sighed.  
  
"What's happened Remus?" enquired one of the more nervous girls.  
  
"Well, it might be a fuse blown. The trip switch has switched the lights off. But I expect Lily will see to it."  
  
"And what's a fuse Reamie dear? Oh, he's so knowledgeable!" replied Gracie, (somewhat admiringly – to Remus's dismay.)  
  
Remus sighed.  
  
"To do with Muggle electricity. Fuses prevent power surges damaging electrical equipment by breaking the circuit – and a trip switch -"  
  
"Trip? Did you just say trip, or trick, Remus? Isn't that a funny word?!" butted in a more-than-tipsy voice. "Oh, this Muggle stuff is so bizarre! Wheres that Lily got to? We can't sit in the dark playing trivia without some sort of alcohol!"  
  
Remus thought that the occasion of being rudely interrupted was a fair moment to slip out unnoticed – which he did, leaving the girls voices to complain and exclaim when they knocked over bowls of dip in the dark.  
  
"I vote we conjure some light. Can't be doing with these 'trick switches' playing tricks on us," quipped one.  
  
"No – wait for Lily – it's her house! Tell you what – shall we play something we haven't for years. A little school Common Room fun?"  
  
"Oh, I hope it's not paper butterfly racing," whined another voice, "mine always lost!"  
  
"In the dark? Don't be silly! No - " whispered the girl. She giggled, "Remember – Wizard Mass Murder?"  
  
"The tasteless dorm game that McGonagall used to disapprove of? We can't do that – Lily's anti hex is still up!"  
  
"Oh, is it now?" spoke up an innocent reply. "And who said it was Lily's anti hex?"  
  
There was a small popping sound, and in the place of a packet of cheesy nibbles appeared a single lit candle in a holder.  
  
The golden glow of light revealed a circle of rather shocked looking female faces. There were a few seconds of silence.  
  
"Er - h-how long has the shield been down?" stammered Paula faintly.  
  
The owner of the 'innocent voice' smiled knowingly. "Only about fifteen minutes - when I went to the toilet last – that's where the charmed stone was hidden."  
  
There was a sudden outbreak of nervous mutterings as the girls all looked at each other. "Oh my God Elaine, " complained Sarah. "The men were bad enough hexing each other sober. They'll kill each other now thanks to you!"  
  
Pauline nodded, as did several others near her.  
  
"Oh rubbish!" retorted back Elaine. "We didn't have any such charm overseeing our last party and it was absolutely fine!"  
  
"-Well its obvious that would go fine from the start - because you only invited Ravenclaws!" shot back Sarah haughtily. "This place has three – no four houses represented – and if anything happens to my Ben – I'll personally-"  
  
"Girls, girls!" cut in Ruth just as Elaine opened her mouth to retort back. "For the sake of Merlin - calm down! I'm sure the boys will be just fine. Look - there are some of the Ministry's best male Aurors in this house for goodness sakes – I'm sure we can trust them to keep order!"  
  
Sarah tossed her fine curls aside and glared at Ruth with narrowed grey eyes. "A house with the Marauder gang in it, keep order?" she exclaimed incredulously. "Are you sure you're not under the confundus charm, woman?"  
  
Ruth looked a little abashed, but came back with a strong enough reply.  
  
"Well then, we'll just have to not tell them the charm's disabled," she reasoned slowly. "As long as they think it is still active, they won't try anything silly - will they?"  
  
The candlelight flickered across the circle of youthful faces. Though a few nodded, others still didn't look entirely convinced...  
  
Suddenly Gracie frowned. "Where'd Remus go?"  
  
"Oh dear. Looks like I won my bet, you lost yours," smirked Elaine.  
  
"Not so much a bet, rather a certainty," teased Ruth. "Everyone's heard the rumour about Remus Lupin."  
  
"Pure and unsullied as freshly laid snow," murmured Gracie dreamily as some girls giggled. "Poor sweetie. Good job I have a plan..."  
  
Lupin was once more in the Potters' hallway. He now took this opportunity to raise his glass to his nose to sniff the contents properly.  
  
It was just as well that he didn't have any more super-senses than his heightened sense of smell. If he had, and overheard the frank way the girls were discussing his "deficiencies" on the other side of the closed door, it would have scared him half to death.  
  
Remus swirled the contents of the glass again. Now if only he could place that smell! It reminded him of the Potters' garden. Somehow like...peach. Like peach, but it wasn't peach...  
  
Remus's eyes widened. That was it! Finally! Pansies – the smell reminded him of pansies!  
  
Now what would Grace be playing at putting something like that in his drink? Snape would know, he was sure.  
  
If he could find him...  
  
Suddenly, there was a series of loud thuds and various grunts from the staircase. For a second Remus was hopeful that it was the Slytherin. But it was only Ben and Sirius.  
  
"Hiya," he replied cheerily.  
  
"Alright Moony," replied Sirius, finding his friend's shoulder in the dark and patting it. "Toilet's free now – if you can find your way up in the pitch black!"  
  
"No problem," said Lupin lightly.  
  
"You coming in the kitchen, Remus?" enquired the voice of Ben Perks.  
  
"Nah. I'm just waiting for Lily to come out of the dining room – see if I can lend a hand with the electrics," replied Lupin carefully. Good excuse!  
  
"See you a bit later then mate, if you're going to be awkward," growled Sirius, in a slightly irked tone. "But make sure you get drunk for when I next see you. I can't even smell alcohol on your breath yet!"  
  
The kitchen door clicked shut. Remus sighed. If only he could find the enthusiasm to enjoy the things his friends liked to do...but try as he did, it just wasn't there... 


	11. Secrets and Slytherins

A/N: Two new chapters! Hope things are becoming clearer now...And for those who wanted to see Snape drunk...

* * *

Snape growled, threw a final few token swearwords at the Muggle switches, turned his back on the wall and took another scoop of ice cream. If he ignored the occasional dog hair, the stuff still tasted as fresh as ever, of course. Damn Lily, she could charm some delicious ice cream!  
  
He needed to sit down again. Snape looked about for any small point of light for guidance, but the darkness was absolute, and seemed to dance around him.  
  
Snape hissed in exasperation, and pointed himself in the most rational direction. He took several paces forward, then a few more, until his hand finally came into contact with something wooden at waist height, possibly a chair back. (Without considering that he hadn't seen any chairs in the room before the light failed, and so it was theoretically impossible for it to be a chair,) Snape went to drag it toward him. But the "chair" was having none of it, and seemed to tilt back with a creak-clunk instead.  
  
Rather like a lever...  
  
The Slytherin jumped as a basey rumbling suddenly erupted all around, the floor shaking slightly beneath him.  
  
A booby trap!  
  
Snape span around repeatedly cursing his stupidity as the blackness was replaced by shimmering light - the very walls seemed to be rotating in on themselves, flame torches, banners and portraits spinning out of nowhere. At the far end of the room part of the whitewashed wall seemed to melt away, revealing a giant stone fireplace, bedecked with several gold trophies. Once the room was flooded with light a folded red and gold cloth appeared with a flash of magic above the table, span several times before dropping and unrolling itself across the length of it – the finishing touch.  
  
Ouch. Snape's eyes squinted around the bright room, the curious portraits, the garish banners and gleaming trophies. One moment it had been like a dusty barn, next it seemed to look like some sickly Gryffindor-biased trophy room at Hogwarts...suspicious indeed.  
  
"Ah Esmerelda dear, I do declare we have a stranger in our presence!" intoned one voice.  
  
"We do indeed, Glenys," remarked a second crisply. "Oh, How troublesome, and Master James is usually so frightfully good at introducing new people!"  
  
The first voice let out a small sigh. "Never mind, I shall take the trouble, noblesse oblige. Now young man, if I may first introduce my good cousin Lady Glenys Powell. (Glenys nodded.) And finally myself; Esmerelda Potter, wife of the good Henry Potter, Minister of Magic, eighteen fifty- four to eighteen seventy-nine. And you might be...?"  
  
Snape turned fully round to stare back two gilt framed, grand and almost life-size portraits, which were staring at him inquisitively. From the rich robes and jewellery they were wearing they were obviously both 'well-bred,' witches, (and quite haughty looking he thought, obviously from Potter's side of the family.) There was even a yappy little white dog sat on the fatter witches' lap. Snape had heard Henry Potter's name in history classes, but had already concluded that anyone with that name must be stuck up pigs, so he gave the portraits an icy glare, turned his back and sat down at the table.  
  
The little dog growled threateningly.  
  
"I say," exclaimed Lady Esmerelda disdainfully, "what a rude boy!"  
  
With his back to them, Snape's lip curled still further into a sulky sneer. He loathed portraits. Old dead people. Especially old dead posh, pompous people. Reminded him too much of his father's house...  
  
"Intolerable," scorned Esmerelda. "Henry would never have put up with the likes under his eaves. But times have changed now, haven't they? Truly shocking, the state of wizarding society nowadays."  
  
"So true," replied Glenys, nodding gravely. "All altered now. Most of the youth running amok as poorly-robed as they are, and poorly educated: learning none of the proper old script nowadays, just shockingly fragmented Latin. Abusing their bodies with all sorts of hair-raising concoctions. Mannerless, self-gratifying, neglectful, hardly doing the old families' proud-"  
  
Esmerelda raised a elegant, gloved hand. "Ah – but you see, they will never know how easy their life is – as they never had to go through the times of Grindlewald."  
  
Glenys shuddered. "No indeed. Most haven't the foggiest, my dear Esmerelda, no. But Esmerelda, surely you must agree that Master Potter's young friend has fought well against the tide of the times, and had blossomed into quite the gentleman..."  
  
Esmerelda's frown softened slightly. "Well," she sighed, her mouth threatening to twitch ever so slightly upwards, "I'll give you your due. Master Black is rather charming..."

* * *

A Death Eater - in her house. It seemed like a joke at first, but it took more than a couple of seconds of silence to register that Nigel had meant it seriously. Lily gave out a small gasp, someone she cared about, someone she was friends with, was a Death Eater!  
  
Nigel responded by giving her hand a gentle squeeze. "I'm sorry," he replied heavily.  
  
"Nigel – I...but, how do you know?" she whispered hurriedly. "Are you an Auror too?"  
  
Lily felt him shuffle awkwardly next to him. "No. I can't do magic, remember, he sighed. "I just – know."  
  
"Well then," she replied firmly, steadying her tone; bracing herself. "Who is it?"  
  
The answer came too coolly, and without hesitation. The matter-of-fact way he'd said it seemed to echo in her ears, taunting her.  
  
"Severus Snape."  
  
"No!" she replied vehemently. "No. Severus is not one; you have made a mistake – you must have. Severus came to me – the last time I saw him before the end of school – to tell me..." Lily leaned toward him, suddenly weakened, her voice barely a whisper. "To tell me his brother...had taken the Dark Mark."  
  
Lily heard Nigel's breath come out in a sharp huff. "Then Severus Snape lied to you," he growled, gripping her hand even harder. "Lied to cover his own tracks. It was Severus Snape who took the Dark Mark when he turned eighteen, Lily, not his brother."  
  
"How can that be?" she returned in slightly panicked tones. "Half the Death Eater gang used to pick on him – why would he go to them?!"  
  
"Don't ask those sorts of questions," said Nigel coolly. "The weaker succumb to their peers, it is a fact of school life."  
  
"Severus wasn't weak," retorted Lily, poking Nigel in the stomach. "For your information, in the last two years of school he faced -"  
  
"Well how would I know – I'd gone!" he snapped back abruptly.  
  
Lily fell silent in shock. Nigel's breath shallowed as he realised what he'd said. They stood motionless in the dark as the thrill of horror spread through them.  
  
Lily felt his hands begin to pull away from her own. "Y-you were at Hogwarts?" she blurted out suddenly, quivering.  
  
"Yes..." he replied quietly, after an awful pause. "I didn't mean to say -"  
  
"And did I know you?" cut in Lily, desperate to know the truth.  
  
Nigel gave out a long sigh. "Probably more than you should have," he swallowed painfully.  
  
Lily felt the tears well up in her eyes as she gripped back his hands. Merlin protect her - it was all a lie – a deliberate lie. She was glad that it was dark, so that he would not have to see her suffering, and she wouldn't have to endure gazing into those eyes. She bit back her tears.  
  
"How do I know you aren't lying to me," she replied quietly.  
  
Nigel swallowed audibly, a note of regret creeping into his tone. "Answer one thing before you make your mind up. Have you noticed any change in Nigel Norway the past few months?"  
  
Lily frowned slightly. "I think – but I don't understand? Why would you-"  
  
"I'll put it better. When exactly did you begin to fancy your...milkman?"  
  
Lily decided she didn't like the way the conversation was going. "I...can't answer that," she muttered.  
  
"Yes you can Lily. Think – please!" he urged.  
  
Lily sighed bitterly. "Probably. I think...about three months ago."  
  
"Three months and three days perhaps?" ventured Nigel carefully. "About the same time as the Dragon attack in Abergavenny town centre?"  
  
"Yes, I remember the Daily Prophet reporting one escaping," replied Lily impatiently. "But why should that matter today?"  
  
"Because..." he replied gravely, "that was the night three Muggles died in house fires started by the beast."  
  
"The paper said two Muggles died!" she interrupted.  
  
"Three. The third, was a certain milkman squib..."  
  
Lily's breath hitched as she realised. "You! Oh my...oh no...Merlin," she trailed off in horror. "But what on Earth were you doing there anyway? Were you called in to capture the dragon?"  
  
Nigel smiled grimly. "Not quite. The initial rumour was that it had been a rare wild one, and I had been attracted by the reward..."  
  
"Prove to me then," she whispered. "It's almost as if I know you – but some part of me needs something...to know this is real...that it's you."  
  
"Come on! You know you don't need proof, girl," he scoffed. "But I will give you it anyway. Like the Sunday morning I woke very early and went down into the grounds. I thought I would pick a bunch of Lilies from the greenhouses and charm them to hover above your bed along with the words – "Sing thee, Immortal flower of Elysium, and with one breath, make my love for you last longer than eternity-"  
  
"That was you?" she breathed, "I thought it was James! Oh, I should have known – it's so obvious now!" She laughed, and paused a few seconds to take it all in. "So..." she finally managed, "you have been disguising yourself as..." she paused, still quite horrified (she'd been kissing a dead person, in a way) "as a, deceased, these past few months, for what exactly?"  
  
"To see you," was the simple reply.  
  
Lily tensed. "And what for?"  
  
He moved closer, until Lily could feel his breath against her face. "I realised that I still loved you," he replied emotionally. "That I had been a fool to end it."  
  
"So you decided to deceive me?" came the slightly chill reply. "Strange way to show your love with a cheap trick, don't you think?"  
  
"It's easier to start again, Lily," he replied meekly. "We had so much baggage before."  
  
"Yes, I remember," she replied smartly. We got tired of lying to everyone all the time, didn't we? So; look at us now, has anything changed?" She pulled one hand free from his grasp and turned it, pressing his fingers firmly around her wedding ring. "Still lying, still deceiving people. What do you reckon? Can we start again now, do you think?"  
  
Nigel set his teeth. "So you're not willing to break wedding vows with me," he uttered lowly, "but, you are quite happy to break them with a mere Muggle?  
  
"You know," she replied shakily, "I might tell James that I've quite gone off the idea of having our milk delivered..."  
  
"Go right ahead," he growled suddenly, pushing her away. "You tell James and fix the lights, while I fix the Death Eater. There's a convenient plan now!"  
  
"No!" shrilled Lily, pulling him back. "Please don't hurt him!"  
  
"Oho, there we go!" he snorted, wrenching himself free again. "You hear his dirty little secret and still defend him. I always heard rumours about your fancies, Lily. Now I know I was a complete idiot to ignore them...and trust who? My...brother...of all people, to keep his word. Stupid troll I was!" he spat nastily.  
  
Lily hung on to him again. Why did he always have to explode at things? "Please..." she pleaded wretchedly. "For Merlin's sake! I give you my word as you give yours, and Severus gave his! It was never, ever like that..."  
  
They paused in the darkness hearts pounding, throats sore – painfully aware of each other. Their breathing, the warmth coming from their bodies. Something had to happen, someone had to move first... 


	12. Driven Away

The longer the old ladies in the portraits went on, the deeper and deeper set Snape's scowl was becoming with each mouthful of ice cream. A bitter irony; just when he thought he had found himself a peaceful hidey-hole, it turned out to be full of Black worshippers - just like everywhere else.  
  
Snape took another swig and shuddered slightly as a slightly nauseous feeling washed over him. He pressed his teeth together...how bloody inconvenient – he needed the toilet; preferably now rather than later. And Potter was up there...Snape shrugged; and so what? He'd been wanting to get Potter on his own for years – see if he was such a big man without the likes of Black by his side.  
  
And besides, with the discovery of this room, he now had something interesting to relay back to base...Potter was obviously holding big and important Auror meetings in a secret room like this – something the Dark Lord would find very interesting indeed...  
  
Snape gave a sly grin as he reached into his robe pocket and pulled out his vial of pepper up. He stared at it for a few seconds before putting it away again. He would wait a little longer before taking it...after all it was sort of pleasant feeling the way he did. Sharper...more focused...but so relaxed at the same time...Snape rose to his feet. If he could stand, well, he could certainly make it up the stairs.

* * *

click.click.click.click.click.click.click.  
  
"AAAAAGGGGGGHHHHHHH!!!!!!"  
  
A loud sound of hissing and the strong smell of burnt human hair filled the dark kitchen.  
  
"I WIN" roared the triumphant voice of Sirius Black over the catcalls and raucous laughter. "I survived twenty five seconds! No more challengers, so that means I'm the hardest! So get the champion a drink you weak pussy!"

* * *

Lupin found the bottom of the stairs and sat, swirling the glass round. Pansies...pansies...pansies.  
  
He sighed. The smell of Snape in the Potters' home was so faint now, he had to have gone. Lupin took a small metal bottle out of a pocket, poured some of his drink into it and screwed the cap back on tightly. He would just have to find out what this stuff was later...  
  
Lupin was so preoccupied with thinking about potions that he near started in surprise when he heard the creak of the hall cupboard opening not too far away from him. Strange. He quietly pocketed the bottle and stood stiffly. He sniffed the air, and felt the back of his neck prickle as he recognised the fresh scent in the hallway. And by the sounds of it, he owner of it was heading right for him.  
  
Snape kept hold of the cupboard door for support and groped around for a wall to follow. For fuck's sake, why was the hallway blacker than the inside of a burnt cauldron? How was he meant to find his way up the blasted stairs now!?!  
  
Lupin swallowed nervously as Snape made his way along the wall. Should he alert him before he reached him – or wait for the inevitable? He did need to talk to him, but on the flip side it was a very, very bad idea to surprise Severus Snape.  
  
Snape was making steady progress. He paused. Now if he was not mistaken – the stair post should be just about...here.  
  
Lupin tried not to flinch as the Slytherin's bony hand grabbed hold of his shoulder and groped it.  
  
Snape frowned. He didn't remember the stairpost having coats hung on it, but, oh well. He took a step up.  
  
Lupin crammed his hand into his mouth to stifle a yell as a dragon hide boot came into contact with the first step, and his fingers. Oooh, that hurt!  
  
Snape took another step, and took a white knuckled grip on the banister, (which fortunately for Lupin was actually the banister, and not him this time.) Lupin held his breath as Snape clambered past him, and let out a sigh of relief once he had passed.  
  
He flexed his fingers, wincing. Close wasn't the word.

* * *

While the talk in the study barely veered off Quidditch, the noisy games continued on in the kitchen and living room. As was true of many parties, each room of people seemed oblivious to anything that might be happening in adjacent rooms.  
  
"I loved you," whispered Lily finally, breaking the terrible silence between them.  
  
Nigel snorted derisively and moodily pulled himself away; it was the last straw as far as he was concerned. Lily's heart wrenched as she heard him snatch open the door and escape into the hallway.  
  
She made sure he was just out of earshot until she added bitterly to the darkness,  
  
"And I still love you."

* * *

Snape took each stair cautiously. There would be no mistakes – checking his robe for foot clearance; one hand gripping the banister, his jaw tensing each time he made a step cre-eak...  
  
The last thing he would want to do here is trip up – he'd already got pretty bored of being jeered at. And falling flat on his twice mended nose would probably mean an extreme pushing of luck to hope Lily'd fix it a third time.  
  
On reaching the top step Snape allowed himself a few seconds to get his bearings and survey the dim landing. Four doors, presumably bedroom one, bedroom two, some sort of cupboard and a bathroom.  
  
Cautiously he tried the first door on his left. It was a small robe storage cupboard of some sort. A dry, fragrant smell wafted out, powerfully reminding him of Lily at school. There had always been the scent of Jasmine around her. Sitting at the same group of tables in potions...  
  
"Mmm..." he hummed absent-mindedly, his eyes half closed.  
  
It should be becoming clearer to the outside observer that the alcohol Snape had so aggressively necked back was steadily beginning to break down the safety wall between his Ego and his Id. The safety wall in the human brain which normally resists and filters out subconscious desires, was rapidly being demolished brick by brick, and reason was drowning in alcohol.  
  
Yes, he, Snape had been drunk once before. It had been on Butterbeer, illegally. (Damned Rosier's idea.) And of course an experience he hardly cared to repeat since it had resulted in a visit to the hospital wing, being force-fed full-strength emergency regurgitation draught, and enduring a good deal of smirks from his housemates for weeks afterward.  
  
As such, Snape had never actually tried Firewhisky 'til this evening, and so the real dangers of it were unfamiliar to him. He had previously sworn never to touch it...but a house full of Gryffindors and dogs, (who seemed to be alternately wanting to speak with, come on to, and drool on him in turn) had skewed his morals. The infuriating Muggle appliances had hardly helped either. In fact, what he'd been through in the past few hours would have probably driven the most zealously anti alcohol activist Ravenclaw to drink. And he had done well on only half a bottle...  
  
Snape felt a pleasurable tingle down his back. He had never felt so...relaxed? It was as if all the important issues in his life were muffled and didn't matter, and were floating above him on the surface, while he was diving, suspended peacefully in the calm waters.  
  
And that damn cupboard smelt so damn nice. He was a born cynic about any sort of religion...but if there ever was a heaven, Snape believed with no doubt that it would smell of jasmine...

* * *

The dining room door clicked open. Lupin stood and cleared his throat to reveal his presence.  
  
"Who's there?" growled Norway.  
  
"Only Remus Lupin," was the reply.  
  
"Oh thank Merlin, Remus," came Lily's relieved voice.  
  
"Seen Snape, Remus?" enquired Norway gruffly.  
  
Remus paused. He didn't like Norway's tone – it sounded almost predatory. "I...think I last saw him in the kitchen," he replied clearly.  
  
"Good," was the smart reply. Lupin heard the kitchen door wrench open. The sound of cheering and raucous laughter spilled into the hallway.  
  
"Promise me!" he heard Lily say worriedly over the noise. As the kitchen door shut Lupin was positive he didn't hear a reply. He moved closer.  
  
"Thank you Remus, you are truly a lifesaver," sighed Lily resignedly, feeling her way into the cupboard. A few flips of switches later and the lights were back on.  
  
The two of them squinted in the sudden brightness. As Lupin's eyes adjusted, he was taken aback by the state of Lily's face. Pale and red eyed, she looked as if something had really, really upset her.  
  
"He's upstairs really," commented Lupin softly. "And he is very, very drunk."  
  
"Oh, good," she replied quietly. "Nigel's after his blood, and the less Severus knows about it, the better." She gave a hollow, nervous laugh.  
  
"And Nigel's only known Snape five minutes," jested Remus. Imagine what he'd be like if he'd known him half his life, like us poor wretches?"  
  
"Imagine," replied Lily faintly. 


	13. Two Hands, Two Bands, Two Possessions

**Chapter 13 – Two Hands, two Bands, two Possessions**

Nutty stomped into the hanging smoke haze trapped in the Potter's kitchen, (which in all likeliness wasn't all cigarette smoke, as it had a rather weird tang to it.) His mind was honed on one thing only, so he barely took in the visual of the main attraction – the short small-eyed Gryffindor, Peter Pettigrew standing in the middle of the kitchen whimpering, a dripping wet dishcloth pressed to his left eye.

The "Muggle Milkman" barged through the outer circle of party-goers and stopped abruptly in the centre, causing most of the crowd to stop clapping. They turned their heads to frown at him questioningly. (Or more likely squint drunkenly at the brightness of the flowery orange jacket and stripy pink tie that had so rudely interrupted their drunken haze...)

"Where is he?" he snarled.

Nutty looked round to recognise a few familiar faces from his Quidditch days. Couple of huge Beaters over there, and that short man with sandy hair – probably Hufflepuff.

Why the heck did some of them have badly singed eyebrows?

It was only then he noticed that a tall man dressed in a trim black leather jacket was staring at him from the far end of the room. Nutty raised an eyebrow and stared back, as he recognised him as none other than Sirius Black.

If that guy was in this room – then it stood to reason Severus wouldn't be. And that Lupin had lied to him.

Sirius downed his tumbler of whiskey in one, flicked his ash, and turned to swagger toward the questioner. It was that crazy milkman again. Merlin, he'd bumped into him how many times? Crawling away from the Potters' parties he often saw him on his round at some unwizardly hour of the morning. What a shit job that must be.

And what Sirius found really interesting was that Nigel Norway looked like someone had just spilt his pint. And by that he wasn't talking about milk.

The Gryffindor took the roll up out of his mouth and blew the smoke downwards. "Where is who, my good man?"

Nutty's lip twitched slightly. "The...unwelcome one, if you know what I mean."

Sirius' eyebrow twitched, the corner of his mouth lifting into a slight smirk. "Y'know, I think I do. Last I knew he was doing some House Elf work for the hostess. If you were that impressed with the job he did on Lily's rug, I hear he comes pretty cheap..."

Some of the crowned groaned, some snickered. Nutty gave a half-amused flash of his over-white teeth and tutted. "Hardly. I'm more interested in where he is now."

Sirius watched the man closely, watched the way his smile never seemed quite genuine, and particularly, _particularly -_ Sirius watched for that rather....murderous flash in his dark eye. Yes – there it was again, and it looked more than simple irritation. And the man was near sober, so it wasn't the drink talking. This was very interesting –

"So, what has he done to offend you? Apart from being here?"

Nutty's smile once again tinged on the predatory. "Well, he did promise to get me a Tequila Sunrise..." he held up his hands and appealed to the crowd. "And do you see one?"

The crowed 'oohed.' Sirius snorted. Evidently this man thought himself quite the comedian. Even more so with his clothes – he was at least 3 years out of fashion for Merlin's sakes!

But if the flowery twat was up for skinning dark weedy Slytherins as he seemed to be, Sirius was all up for it. Magic versus Muggle brawn. Snape wouldn't know what hit him.

"Seems like a good enough reason to want to have a little...word with him," he smiled dryly. He held out his hand for shaking. "Sirius Black. You're Norway, ain't you? Need some help looking for the little...?"

Nutty stared back at the Gryffindor thoughtfully before shaking his hand with a tough grip. Black had always been far too in-your-face to be a Slytherin – he was popular and did he know it. But he did have that one streak of cruel mischievousness... No wonder his brother and Black were always at loggerheads at school.

Nutty grinned impishly. _How ironic this was._

Sirius turned up his collar, shrugged his shoulders and grabbed himself a shot of something. "Okay, lets go," he growled.

And together the two menacing looking mismatches filed out of the kitchen.

The rest of the kitchen loiterers turned and gave each other funny looks. They for sure weren't in the mood to break up a fight.

Perks coughed. "Er, anyone want some music? About time this party had some."

"I know there's an enchanted turntable in the dining room," gestured the larger of the Gryffindor beaters, Edgar Bones. "Lines up the records in order of requests. Potter's got loads of Magic stuff on LP – Lily's got Muggle. Put on anything - "

"The Banshees!" piped up Wormtail immediately.

"Right you are," smiled back Perks.

"Except for the Banshees," grumbled Bones. "Bloody awful."

Wormtail's face fell, and he turned sulkily to run the dishcloth under the cold tap again.

"Okay," commented Perks, looking slightly put out. "What else?"

"Have they got anything by The Sweet?" ventured Muggleborn, Andy Bell.

"The Who?" said Bones.

"The Sweet," replied Bell, smirking..

"The Who."

"The Sweet!"

"No – I meant, The Who?"

"For the third time, he said The Bloody Sweet!" cut in John Rookley suddenly, a pureblood Ravenclaw known for his short temper.

"And I said The Who!" grinned Bones, adding before Rookley made a move to strangle him, "The Who is a famous Muggle band."

"Well...that's a bloody stupid name for a band," groused Rookley, slouching sulkily in his seat.

"So's The Sweet," Andy Bell grinned, taking a swig of his Butterbeer. "Well, mellow out...it's a Muggle thing..."

Perks smiled and raised what eyebrows he had left. "I'll have a look for them both then. Any wizarding requests too?"

Wormtail squeezed out the dishcloth and put it back to his bloodshot eye, looking round pleadingly at them all. "The Banshees?"

* * *

Spencer groaned as he came to, and froze as he realised he was lying on a bed that wasn't his.

Merlin. _Not again._

He sat up doggedly. The room was going around a little, but what sense he could make of it was that it belonged to a straight couple. The cute soft toy puppy dog on the left side of the bed clashing sharply with the masculinity of the discarded pair of worn boxer shorts on the floor to his right...

He sighed. He wasn't in some sexy bachelor's pad then. More's the pity.

A sudden loud snore broke his thoughts. Spencer craned his head around to the right. It was James Potter slumped awkwardly in an armchair, his head lolling back and his mouth wide open.

Ah.

Sharpe frowned as various bits of memories began to return to him. He was at Potter's party, he knew that now. He came dressed as a cowboy, yes, yes. He played a drinking game -

Singing....

He frowned still more. Singing? Nothing at all after the singing? Surely there was more? And still more, what was he singing? He rubbed his head and moaned. Merlin, this was so bad; what had he been drinking to make him forget this much?

He glanced toward the alarm clock, a little delicate wizarding thing on spindly legs, which also seemed to be snoring. It had only just gone midnight.

Potter began to snore even more throatily. Spencer wrinkled up his nose. Men who snored were highly unattractive. For Godric's sake, if he knew he sounded like a lion roaring, he would definitely take some potions to stop himself.

And with the headache he was rapidly developing.... He would bet Lily needed some effective silencing charms to combat James' level of decibels.

He managed to stand up and walk a perfectly straight line (or so he thought) to the door. Turning onto the landing he stopped at the first door he came to, which luckily enough for him in his state, was the bathroom.

As Sharpe walked past the mirror he cast a quick look at himself before halting and frowning. Something was missing from the costume. Surely he'd had a hat when he came to the party? Where had it gone?

As he lifted the toilet seat and looked down to his belt he noted an empty clip. Make that two things missing.

Sharpe cocked an eyebrow and twisted his lips into a devilish smile as he whistled. Who in their right mind at a party would steal a whip?


	14. Naff

A/N: Finally...Why is comedy _always _the hardest thing to write? I'm sorry this took so long, but I didn't want to just churn this story out for the sake of it, I wanted to keep it funny, and to do that requires a lot of concentration and a mood for humour which I sadly haven't had for months. Now I am in the mood I am giving you as long a length chapters as I can!

Note: The lyrics quoted in this chapter and following chapters belong to various classy 60's and 70's Muggle bands, and the usual disclaimer applies – I declare no profit is being made from my use of their lyrics in my fic, etc.

* * *

**Chapter Fourteen. **

Naff

Lupin watched Lily, a slight frown crossing his face.

"Would like to, you know, tell me about it, or what Nigel said?" he enquired softly.

Lily took in a calming breath and looked up, giving her best reassuring smile. "Thank you Remus, sweetheart, but no – I can handle this just fine."

"But he must have said something to upset-"

"Well, if he did, I just said I can handle it fine on my own, okay?!" returned Lily quickly, a flush of colour returning to her cheeks.

Remus abruptly closed his mouth. With Lily, secrets she wanted to stay secret, would, and with her temper, you just had to respect this.

The witch noticed the slightly hurt look on her friend's face, and gave an apologetic smile. "But I'll think I might just need a bit of help with sorting out the boys upstairs in a few minutes..."

Lupin began to smile, but quickly stopped when he noticed the smile slip from Lily's face.

_The boys!_ Severus, James and Spencer!

Jaws falling open at the same time, they both went for the stairs at the same time, and it was only by a minor miracle that Lily missed putting a stiletto heel on one of Lupin's feet in the scramble.

* * *

Sirius Black was not amused. 

He and Nigel had menaced the late night nibblers helping themselves to food in the dining room, glowered out into the conservatory, poked their noses into the living room, and barged past the sport enthusiasts in the study. Sirius had even stuck his head behind the magical false wall in the broom cupboard, but without luck. And now even Lupin and Lily had "mysteriously disappeared" after lying to him about the whereabouts of Snape...And this, he decided, was even more annoying than having over a dozen girls stare at you when you walk into a room. (And to make it worse, they'd gone red and started giggling amongst themselves when he had tried to question them.)

Sirius narrowed his eyes. Women. They were all the same – a few wines down their necks and skwark bloody skwark, they were about as graceful as flock of pissed parrots falling out a tree.

Beside him Nigel was simmering with pent up annoyance. "Where we off to next then, Black? Where do you reckon the Slimeball would be hiding?"

"Probably slithered down some crack somewhere. Moony's such a bloody bore sometimes – I told him to relax, have a few drinks, but I know he hardly ever does. Why did he have to lie!"

"I take it the Potters aren't used to having Slytherins as party guests then?" remarked Nigel coolly, looking at the Gryffindor's slightly reddened face.

Black faked an angelic smile. "Let's just say that if I were Snivellus I wouldn't wish to be around long enough for James to sober up and find him," he growled darkly. "Or this he might find a second flipping will result in more than just his clothes getting stripped off..."

Nigel let a wry smile curl his lip. "Well, he must be a rather dim wizard then, as I'm sure by the way he was acting toward Mrs Potter, he has some business with her. I believe he's still in this house, and I also believe he won't leave until he gets her alone."

"Fan – bloody – tastic," growled Black. "That's all I need to hear. From the day she got put with him in Potions she always stood up for him – turning a blind eye when he hexed our potions, even after she starting seeing James! He hated it – flipping hell - I hated it!"

The other man's expression hardened considerably as he turned to look at the Gryffindor, his eyes as cold as Verdite gem. "I know you did, Black."

Black looked back with a quizzical expression, but before he could question the man's odd comment a dull thud sounded immediately above them. They both looked up.

_People. Upstairs..._

* * *

Perks whistled to himself cheerfully as he flipped through the Potter's record collection. Picking several out he carried them over to the player and lay them in a pile by the side of the turntable. As if by magic (and funnily enough it was) the LPs slid themselves from their paper sleeves and began to automatically line themselves up in order of play. As the first LP hissed into action, the dulcet tones of The Sweet began to pound out... 

As Perks walked back into the kitchen he noticed Andy grin, his eyes lighting up... Of course, he knew every word...

Are you ready, Steve? _Uh-huh._

Andy? _Yeah!_

Mick? _Okay._

Alright, fellas, let's GOOOOOOO!

Rookley looked disbelievingly across at the Muggleborns and half-bloods, half of whom had begun to dance erratically, or sway drunkenly. And then, horror upon horrors, they began to sing along with Bell...

OOOH YEAH, it was like lightning, everybody was frightening!

And the music was soothing, and they all started grooving!

OOOHH YEAH! YEAH! YEAH! YEAH! YEAH!!!

After about the eightieth time "IT'S, IT'S A BALLROOM BLITZ! IT'S IT'S A BALLROOM BLITZ!" had been enthusiastically shrieked across the kitchen and the next track was underway, Rookley turned to the person next to him, frowning. "I just can't believe people like that stuff. What sort of song sings about the red-eyed man at the back ordering everyone to attack, and a girl killing you with "a wink of her eye." Sounds like a sick Death Eater's song to me!"

Bell overheard and turned, laughing. "Rubbish – that's really upbeat stuff, Rookley. You'd change your classification of naff music if you heard us singing, Ra-Ra-rasputin, lover of the Russian Queen!" Noting the few blank stares around him, he sighed, going on to explain, "Boney-M. They're a brill Muggle band!"

Bones frowned. "Boney M? That's a wizard band, isn't it?"

Bell's eyebrows creased. "No. Muggle. Pretty sure they're Muggle."

"Well, I never...!"

* * *

"Ain't no sunshine when he's gone," murmured Sharpe, correcting his aim over the toilet bowl. Belching quietly under his breath he leaned over more, putting one hand on the wall to steady himself. 

"It's not warm when he's away..._no-oo, ay-y..."_

After flushing the chain, and checking the mirror again he glanced around the bathroom. His throat and mouth were burning and his stomach was beginning to growl rather painfully. As was typical of Sod's law, he was carrying a vial of pepper-up potion, one restorative, one cleansing potion, one invisibility, one sleeping potion, and one dish-washing draught of his own invention, (don't ask) but no indigestion potion! He could put up with a headache, but not indigestion. He'd always suffered from it – especially after having a short nap after food. But tonight he'd forgotten to bring one with him...

He groaned as he imagined a revolting mush of soggy crisps floating around in a stomach full of Firewhiskey and blackcurrant... Merlin - no wonder his stomach was complaining!

He looked toward the Potters' medicine cabinet. Maybe Lily had something he could borrow?

He clicked open the door, and set his eyes scanning across the line of potion bottles randomly jumbled with Muggle packets, tubes and tubs, several rows deep. He saw they had a few of the same potions he had on him already plus more; Zit-ease, Ulcer salve, Sir Aye Azziz's Magical Rash Remover, Scurf's balsam, eye-drops, cough potion, several hair treatments, a rather dusty Muggle tub of hair gel stacked on top of a dusty magical pot of rainbow hair gel, a few cotton buds and a hair grip. Sharpe sighed – it was obvious the Potters didn't have any indigestion potion either. They probably didn't suffer from it.

He moved back and went to shut the cupboard door, but paused as his stomach growled horribly again. Maybe they had the Muggle counterpart?

He began to search more thoroughly, this time taking the packets and tubs off the shelf to read them. Muggles were truly fascinating; instead of potions, they seemed to use a lot of dry pill type things that looked and smelt like chalk. Most of the instructions told them to take one or two with water, and not to exceed the stated dose.

Fascinating.

Ah – there! His eye caught sight of the word "indigestion" – but typically it was right at the back! Sharpe took care to pull the packet out without knocking any others over, but it was a near impossible task. He grumbled as several pots and potions tumbled to the floor, to his chagrin a couple of pots burst open, sending the little pills pinging everywhere.

"Oh...naff it all..." he muttered. (If only the house didn't have that dratted anti-hex on it, he would have been able to sort the cabinet and avoid making such a mess!)

Finally he had the prized tub of "Rennies" in his hand. First scanning the instructions he wasted little time after in crunching up a tablet, which unsurprisingly tasted like chalk.

He frowned. Maybe it was chalk?

* * *

A/N: Next Chapter should also be up – I've uploaded them at the same time! 


	15. Seven Up

**Chapter Fifteen**

**Seven-Up**

Jasmine...jasmine...jasmine...

Snape breathed in deeply once again, his nose buried in a soft green nightie. He appeared to be caught in some sort of odd daydream.

_Jasmine...jasmine..._

All of a sudden there was a mad clatter of footsteps coming up the stairs. Snapping out of his reverie, Snape dropped the shirt and tried to turn, but his reactions were at least half the speed they usually were, and he just couldn't position himself right in time to regain proper balance, and fell out of the airing cupboard.

So it was to his utter mortification when Lily and Lupin rounded the corner to find him lying spread-eagled on his back at the top of the stairs.

"Severus!" exclaimed Lily, worriedly.

"Shhh-shh!" hissed Lupin, alarmed.

"Ouch," muttered Severus sourly, rubbing the back of his head.

* * *

Downstairs in the front room, subtly avoiding the rowdy kitchen this chapter, some of the girls were still finding Sirius Black's venture into their midst a big talking point. So much so, that they were spoiling the Murder game with their constant sniggering. 

"Did you see his face," hissed one. "Such a giggle!"

"Girls – can we play this now?" came a irritable voice through the darkness. "Just because we've turned the lights off doesn't mean I can't recognise who's making a "

The giggling stopped.

"Okay – Gracie, spin the wand and choose our next murderer. No cheating please."

Gracie made an offended noise in her throat. "As if I would! _Deligo lusor!"_

There was a slight whirring noise as the wand spun. The players listened nervously for the wand to stop spinning. Once it had done that it would then move to pick the murderer anonymously by tapping one of them lightly on the cheek. Or it should have done – if their game hadn't been disturbed by the living room door creaking open and causing the room to be flooded with enough light for them all to see the wand pick Paula as the murderer.

They tutted and looked round as the solid shape of the Potters' silly dog bounded in, tail wagging, bright eyes shining happily in the darkness. Several wine glasses tipped over. A chilli dip toppled and went splat. Immediately, she swang round and before anyone could stop her, began to lap the hot dip straight up from the floor, making loud slopping sounds.

"Oh, Doobs!!"

* * *

Spencer Sharpe was just putting the Rennies back in the cupboard when he heard a clatter of footsteps coming up the stairs, followed by a loud thud just outside on the landing. His eyebrows rose as he heard frantic whispering.

Whatever was going on?!

He moved to the door before remembering with horror about the spilled pills still on the floor. Bending down he hurriedly began to collect them up.

_Now – the little ones went in that tub, the big ones...where did the big ones go?_

"Don't touch me, you mangy wur, - you wuourlf!" slurred a familiar voice just outside. "Eye-ull hex you – I sweer eye will! An then eye-ul...Argh!"

"Shhhh!"

The pills all collected, he then turned to grab up the potion bottles and hurriedly stuffed everything onto the front row of the bottom shelf. The voices were coming nearer.

"What about Pepper up?"

"No – we don't want him sober again. Can you imagine?"

"Sleeping potion then?"

There was a short pause and then a sigh. "Probably the quietest way to get him out of here."

"But – I still need to -"

Sharpe decided that this was the moment to open the bathroom door.

"Agh!"

They all jumped in spite of themselves. Suddenly devoid of support, a black robed figure began to slouch and fall forwards-

Sharpe's arm grabbed hold of Snape just before he succeeded in getting his nose pulverised on something hard for the second time that evening.

"Oops," mumbled Lupin.

"Ha. Good job I still play Quidditch," grinned Sharpe.

"Potter...Rotter," slurred Snape suddenly, beginning to struggle. "Black...Arragan-Bastar-tantall-fucken-arselicken-wankshit-CRUCIO!"

They looked at one another, blinking. Lily went slightly pale.

"Perhaps the Sleeping Potion then," suggested Lupin.

Lily nodded.

"Aha, me and Norway here were just thinking of the exact same thing, weren't we Norway?" came a low growl from the stairway.

They all turned with unease to find the unlikely pair of Black and Norway menacing their easiest exit route.

After an extremely smug nod from Black, Norway took a step forward, ignoring the pleading looks from Lily. "I think we have some unfinished business, Snape," he snarled, eyes alight with malice.

"Goodness me!" Exclaimed Sharpe. "Can't you people go five darn minutes without having a fight!"

There was a dry snickering sound. People looked around in surprise until they realised with shock that it was actually coming from Snape. _Snape was laughing?_ Lupin exchanged funny glances with Sharpe. But whether it was with drunkenness or simply amusement at the situation, nobody could tell.

By the look of his face, Norway was clearly reaching boiling point. Clenched his fists and took another step forward.

"NO!" shrilled Lily, stepping across to block the hallway.

"Leave off him Norway," called out Black suddenly. "After all, we only came upstairs to have a piss!"

Norway turned angrily to mouth off at Black, but caught sight of the slight smirk on his lips. _The man had a plan..._He took a couple of calming breaths before turning back to face Lily.

"Fair enough," he replied, as coolly as he could manage. "Now – if you'll excuse us..."

With that the two glowering men began to squeeze through the crowded hallway.

They were only halfway through when there was a snarl and the sound of someone spitting.

Black stopped stock still, his face turning redder and redder as he felt the spit trickle down the side of his face.

"Why...you...slimy little...GIT!!"

It happened within seconds; Black lunged at Snape, Lupin stepped in and took the full blow instead; Lily tripped up Norway so he went crashing down through the crowd, ripping Spencer's shirt as he tried to stop himself, Spencer in shock then let go of Snape, who fell to the floor alongside Norway, where they proceeded to pummel the life out of one another.

"Oh...Bugger! That was my best cheesecloth, you, you absolute sod Norway!" scowled Sharpe, jabbing his finger at the Muggle Milkman. "My Stetson, my whip - and now my shirt!!"

Lupin moaned sadly and looked around for his angry friend, rubbing his face. Where had Padfoot gone?

Lily was now the only one remotely interested in noticing the fight taking place at their feet. Somehow, Snape had managed to get Nigel's garish jacket twisted around his head, and inner contents of the pockets were flying from them faster than the foul insults from their mouths.

"Boys!"

She stood over them in exasperation, trying to haul one off the other by getting hold of their legs, but only succeeded in pulling off one of Nigel's platform shoes.

"Boys! Nigel! NIGEL! SNAPE!! STOP IT!"

She had screamed, she had yelled, she had even tried to slap, but she was not a thrower so would not resort to that. It was no use. Flinging her hands up in frustration she stormed into the bathroom. The bloody anti-hex charm was bloody-well coming off now – it was obviously no use in a party full of bloody cavemen...

She picked up the toilet brush stand and blinked. The charmed stone wasn't glowing. Anti-hex was down...

Her blood near to boiling, Lily decided then and there that she'd had enough of parties. This would definitely the last party she'd ever hold. Ever!

* * *

A/N: Keep an eye on the chapter updates, I've got more muse where this came from! 


	16. Such Stimulating Company

**Chapter Sixteen**

**Such Stimulating Company**

"Petrificus Totalus!!"

An expression of pure fury remained frozen onto Norway's face as his limbs all siezed, while the unaffected Snape continued to whack him with all the merry force of an evening's pent up frustration.

Lupin dodged to the side as Norway's other platform shoe went flying across the hallway with such force it rebounded off the wall at the other end.

"Someone – one of you boys – anyone - get hold of him please, before he destroys my entire house!" shrilled Lily exasperatedly.

Sharpe smiled - perhaps a little too happily - as he moved forward. "At yer service – Ma'am," he drawled in his worst American multiple-states accent.

At the sound of Sharpe's voice Snape froze, and backed away from Norway until he reached the wall furthest away from him, seemingly struck with a terror.

Lupin looked at Sharpe quizzically. "What on earth did you do?"

Sharpe raised his eyebrows innocently. "Unconscious innuendo?"

* * *

_Black night, is not right,   
I don't feel, so bright,   
I don't care, to sit tight._

_Maybe I'll find on the way down the line   
that I'm free, free to be me.   
Black night is a long way from home._

It could have been due to hunger, thirst, or the sound of music, but most of the Quidditch group had suddenly filtered out of the study into the kitchen and dining room. Andy Bell squeezed through the noisy crowd, shaking hands with people he hadn't had chance to meet so far that night. Reaching the other side of the kitchen, he reached to clap his new Ravenclaw friend on the shoulder. "Fancy coming to the dining room for some midnight munchies?"

"Not hungry," grumbled Rookley.

"The drink'll go to your head otherwise!" came the jest of a warning.

"Good. Let it."

Bell's smile faltered. "Well – okay. See you later then."

Rookley watched the smiley-eyed Gryffindor leave with no hint of remorse. He was having a crap night. He didn't like this sort of party, and he was determined that no one should, could or would make him enjoy it.

_Black night, black night,   
I don't need, black night..._

"Well, at least this is better music than the other stuff," he muttered morosely to himself, trying in vain to stop his toe tapping to the infectious beat.

* * *

Black's eyes raked through the medicine cabinet. He needed a damn good Sobriety Potion right now. From what he could remember from previous drunken weekends, Lily always kept them in blue bottles on the left hand side, bottom shelf...

Ah – there was one. He grabbed for the first blue bottle he saw on the far left and slipped out of the door, and right past the still struggling crowd into the couple's bedroom.

"Prongs?" he growled. "Ere, Prongs!"

An inhumanely loud snore assaulted his ears. There was his mate, in the exact same position he'd been when he and Perks had brought Spencer up. "Merlin's balls, James Potter, you really can't take your drink, can you?"

James grunted slightly in response, but did not wake, his head still lolling back. There was nothing for it, Black concluded. He crossed the room, uncorked the bottle and poured the entire contents down his friend's throat.

The reaction was not unlike a violently erupting volcano. Firstly there was an ominous low gargling sound followed by a spatter of loud splutters, anda roll of coughs. One violent cough more and Potter jerked bolt upright, his bleary eyes squinting through lop-sided glasses.

"Oh fuck Merlin! W-what time is it Padfoot? Am I late for work?!" he exclaimed, before groaning, "Uh, I have got one Bludger of a headache!"

Black grinned at his static-haired friend. "Sorry to disturb your beauty sleep, but it's still your party night mate. And no time for headaches – Snivellus is still here, you need to tell Lily you want him kicked out now. She won't bloody listen to me!"

At the mention of the name the host's eyes narrowed. "Snivellus?"

"Yep, Prongs. Now come on – that stuff should be bloody working by now!"

James' face was flushing, and his eyes were dilating fast. "Snivellus, as in Snape?" he repeated.

Sirius frowned. "Yes, well done, you got it the first time – now let's move!"

James looked down at his hands to notice that they were trembling slightly. "What the hell did you just give me, Padfoot? I feel really sort of..._shifty_..."

"It was only one of those blue sobriety potions," replied Padfoot impatiently, pointing to the bedside table. "There's the bottle right there – to the left on the bottom shelf."

James picked it up, frowning. "But it didn't taste quite...and you gave me the whole lot, right?"

"Well," huffed his friend, "we had enough at school, it's not like you're allergic to it! Now – come on – he's right out in-"

"Wait – wait..." James gave up wrestling with his quivering hand, and put the bottle down on the bed so he could read its label clearly. He paled. "Shit Padfoot – that was Lily's caffeine potion – you gave me a WHOLE flipping bottle of Lily's caffeine potion?!"

Sirius simply shrugged off his mistake. "Well, it woke you up nice and quick, didn't it?"

"You could have bloody killed me! There's all sorts of funny stuff in that cabinet!"

"Yeah I know," retorted back Sirius, "but for your information – Snivellus is out there and if I hadn't been around he would have got in here and got you in your sleep!"

There was a brief silence. Sirius looked down at his staring-eyed friend – now he thought about it he did look a bit twitchy... "I can go look for a calming potion, if you like?" he asked, concerned.

"Is Lily out there too?" James enquired suddenly, completely ignoring his friend's question.

"Yes, I came upstairs, and she was already-"

James turned pale. "Oh Merlin, why didn't I see it before? Why didn't I see it before, I'm such an idiot, _why didn't I see it before?"_ He ranted, thumping the bed repeatedly with a fist, "Why, why, why, why, why, why, WHY?!"

The potion bottle went flying across the room and clunked into the wall.

Sirius blinked several times. "Woah, easy there, Prongs."

James whipped around to glare at his friend. "Don't tell me to "woah" Padfoot – I haven't seen this clearly in years! Lily's been acting funny for months! It's obvious, it's crystal clear!" He laughed oddly.

"Has she..?" Black was confused.

"Yes of course she has!" hissed James, looking rather frenzied. "And I reckon it's because she's hiding a secret. And Moony must be in on it too...yes...I'll bet you ten galleons she invited Snape tonight and didn't tell me!" James laughed again. "Who knows who else could be in on it – who else could be laughing behind my back right now!"

Black shuffled awkwardly and ran a hand through his hair. What sort of hellish trouble had he got his friend into now?

"Um, I don't think... Look," he sighed, "you're a little bit worked up, it's just the caffeine talking, okay? If I get you something to calm you down a little bit before we go out-"

James gave his friend an odd quirky smile as he stood up. "No you don't Padfoot – I don't trust you – who knows, you might poison me next time. And don't think it's not obvious you're just trying to stop me from seeing my wife!"

Sirius watched nervously as James quivered before virtually springing toward to the door. "Prongs, don't worry about Lily for the moment, we'll sort her out later. Just help me get Snape out first, okay?"

"Fine by me!" was the rather too flippant reply.

* * *

Snape's heart hammered nervously in his chest. He would be fine, as long as he kept his back to the wall and his body away from _that voice..._

It was difficult to talk, and his balance wasn't too good, but at least he wasn't seeing double vision like he remembered from his encounter with Butterbeer. He scowled - everyone was staring at him again like he was a pickled something in a jar –

Two dark-haired, unmistakeable shadows suddenly appeared at the back of the corridor. He tensed automatically; his recognition of them was instant even after half a bottle of spirits. Snape saw Potter's angry gaze go his way, but was rather surprised when it didn't linger on him for long.

Potter's hand flew to Lily's arm instead. Lily flinched.

"I think you've got something to say to me," he growled.

Lily paled slightly, but stayed her ground. "James – you look terrible. Go back to bed and sleep it off like I told you to, sweetie."

"Don't you_ sweetie_ me!" began James dangerously. Snape watched as a rather nervous Siriusgrabbed hold of his friend's arm, only to be roughly pushed away.

"Leave out of this Padfoot!" snarled James, looking a bit mad. "This is between me and my wife!"

Snape took the opportunity of the distraction to have a look around for means of escape. The whiskey was as good as lost now – it was in the airing cupboard, and Lupin had his back leaning against the door. He began to shuffle sideways as quietly as he could, until his hand came into contact with something cold.

He glanced down. It was a little silver bottle – his little silver bottle with the pepper up potion in. He must have lost it when fighting with the Muggle prat.

With another quick glance up to the squabble he pocketed the bottle and looked around for more lost things within his reach. There was a little jade stone, a small screw-capped pot, and over there a nail file. Snape hardly wanted a nail file, but he reached for it anyway. Who knew how it might come in useful?

James' face was pale and twisted, Lily's was stricken. "If you won't tell me, then that proves you're a cheat and a filthy liar!" he spat at her, his fingers like claws around her arm.

"Don't listen to him Lily – he's just paranoid, overdosed on caffiene!" That was Black's voice.

"What?" Lupin's voice.

"It's not that strong, Lily has it all the time when she's on night shifts to keep awake, _don't you Lily?_" returned James, his eyes flashing with anger. "And now I've said that, it makes me wonder what she gets up to on those shifts when I'm not around..."

"James! Listen to yourself – I won't listen to this – I won't!" quavered his wife. Lily was trying not to sound too bothered, but his spiteful words, caffeine induced or not, had deeply hurt her...

Mildly shocked at the proceedings (Whoever thought the saintly Potter pair could be capable of domestics?) but grateful for the diversion, Snape decided that now would be the best time to make his escape. But as he had trouble standing, there was the obvious hazard of the stairs.

His hand moved toward his robe pocket. Should he use his Pepper Up now?

* * *

A/N: Not such a funny chapter, this one – but I think the shit from all the earlier chapters had to hit the fan sometime. And for the record, messy medicine cabinets frighten me – they are a disaster waiting to happen.

Next chapter – It's getting to that time of night where Spin the Bottle seems like a good idea...and Why it is not wise to feed your dog hot chilli dip....

Please review, comment or say hi – I'd love to know what you think of the story!


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